


Amped

by gwyllion



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, NaNoWriMo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 57,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/pseuds/gwyllion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Knights are about to embark on their Round Table Tour.  All is not well with the band.  Lead vocalist Arthur and lead guitarist Gwaine are feuding again.  The head roadie has quit, leaving them in the lurch just before their first show.  Enter Merlin, Gwaine's former friend, to handle the logistics.  Merlin harbors a dark secret as the victim of domestic violence.  Hijinks ensue, with a blend of angst and humor, and of course Arthur and Merlin discover they were destined to be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Amped was written for NaNoWriMo 2011. Read at your own risk; I wrote this, (posting it unedited, live, daily, and anonymously), in 30 days as a fill to [this](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/17437.html?thread=16515357#t16515357) prompt. For additional notes, including the full multi-media experience, feel free to visit Amped on my LJ [here](http://gwylliondream.livejournal.com/36412.html).

_“Pretty. Pret-ty eeee eee ee eee ee ee eee….”_

Arthur heard Gwaine’s voice screeching from the amplifier before he rounded the corner onto the block. He killed the radio and accelerated down the tree-lined street, the noise growing more annoying by the second.

 _“My therapist said not to see you no more,”_ Gwaine’s voice rang through the residential neighbourhood in the upscale community of Camelot, disturbing the peace of a Sunday afternoon.

His jaw clenched tight, fingers gripping the steering wheel, Arthur brought the bright yellow Smart Car to a stop that made his aviators slide down his nose.

 _“She said you’re like a disease without any cure,”_ Gwaine sang, the strained noise disrupting the barbecued air of the Spring day.

Arthur pushed his glasses into place and leapt from the vehicle without shutting the door behind him. He ran up the driveway, weaving around the parked cars like he was avoiding opponents on the footie field.

_“I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no.”_

His father would have his head on a platter if the neighbours called the police to complain one more time. It was bad enough that Uther hated Arthur’s band friends on the principle of them being a bad influence on his only son, but if Arthur wanted to gain his father’s monetary funding for the upcoming Round Table Tour, he’d damn well better not upset the neighbours while the band practiced.

 _“Ah, you think you’re so pretty,”_ Gwaine twirled around the makeshift stage, his hair catching the light as he pranced from one side of the garage to the other.

_“Pretty. Pret-ty eeee eee ee ee ee-”_

Panting and out of breath, Arthur tore the plug from the wall.

Nobody moved.

Elyan glanced at Gwaine before Arthur could speak.

“Just what the hell is going on here?” Arthur asked.

Gilli got in his face. “You said we needed practice… so we’re practicing.”

Gwaine shifted uncomfortably, the microphone dangling from its black cord, swinging like a pendulum that would seal his fate in a well-timed execution.

“Practice?” asked Arthur, his voice echoing in the cavernous garage of the Pendragon home.

“Well, we do need the practice… Princess,” Gwaine said smugly. “Sorry for usurping your vocal stylings when you didn’t get here on time.”

“Here? Why in God’s name would we decide to practice here?”

“Gilli set the place,” Leon stepped forward, his bass guitar hanging loose against his hips.

“That’s right,” Gilli nodded. “Blame me, if you want, but you guys suck. It’s the only way you’ll ever be ready for the tour. It’s not my fault your Daddy doesn’t want a garage band in his garage.”

Arthur shoved Gilli away, sending the chief roadie stumbling backwards. “You think we suck?” he asked, finally drawing his hands to his own hips. “And, you have the balls to call a practice here? Do you have any idea what my father will do to me if he catches us, which I’m sure he will, since the Aredians and the Caerleons have probably already called the police?”

Arthur’s face was red with fury.

“I don’t really give two shits about what your father thinks,” Gilli pushed back. “As a matter of fact, you can go fuck yourself if you think I’m going to help you any more than I already have. I quit!”

“You can’t quit now,” Percival pleaded, rising to his feet from behind his drum kit.

“Shut it, Percy,” said Arthur, his hand outstretched toward him to stop the argumentative flow of words.

Gilli tugged the car keys from his pocket. “Find yourself a new sucker,” he said as he pushed past Arthur and climbed into his battered conversion van.

“Wait, Gilli,” Lancelot shouted. He reached a hand through the window and clasped Gilli’s shoulder, “We need you.”

“But I don’t need you,” Gilli said, revving the engine before he backed down the driveway, clipping the open door of Arthur’s Smart Car on his way.

In an instant, The Knights had gone from every Camelot High School dropout’s dream to a washed up band of semi-talented unemployed college graduates. Without a roadie to sort their equipment and keep their wiring straight, they were nothing. And the Round Table Tour was less than a month away.

***

Merlin stared into the warm water. His wrinkled fingers grasped for another crusty dish or an elusive piece of cutlery hidden beneath the sudsy bubbles.

He had barely made a dent in the stack Mordred had left in their kitchen, although he had been at it for an hour. A teardrop slid down his cheek and dropped into the sink, dissipating the suds that had been agitated to bubbles by his reddened hands.

He would like to have hummed, but the music had stopped for him shortly after Mordred locked him under his spell.

 _He tells me I’m beautiful,_ Merlin mused. A smile quirked the corners of his mouth, although he dared not let it show. He could never tell if Mordred was watching… or not. 

A creak of a floorboard, a turn of a faucet… Merlin paid attention to the sounds that alerted him of Mordred’s presence.

Nothing, now.

He sunk his hands into the sink and his mind into his dream again.

 _Beautiful,_ he thought.

 _Me?_ he uttered aloud with the impossibility that anyone would ever call him such, outside the confines of his secret dreams.

He shook his head to scatter the thought among the dishes, the notion too precious to hold for too long.

Merlin was a slave to his master. Blue-eyed and dark haired, he was so similar to Mordred in so many ways, except for the most important- the integrity of his soul. Unfortunately, he found this out too late.

Hot water sprayed into the sink. Bubbles expanded like Merlin’s dreams, white and pure, free from the grime of the everyday predicament in which he found himself. In search of a roof over his head, a lover, he was just like everyone else in the workaday world, but Merlin found himself in the most dreadful predicament with no hope for escape, except through his imagination.

“Get these done,” Mordred scowled, piling up another stack of china, crusted with filth.

“Yes, Mordred,” Merlin said, scrubbing violent with red burnt hands. He did his best, lest anyone doubt for a minute his intent for good. But his best was never good enough.

He dreamed by the sink, his lips pressed tight, searching for a tuneless note with his exhale. He would bask in the stables of his imagination, among the shit. When his thoughts were free to roam, he dreamed of another master.

Someone to comfort him.

He pretended the dishes belonged to a master who had to run out on an emergency errand. Noble. Kind. The thought of it, when conjured by Merlin’s imagination would cause his blood to warm and his heart to beat like the wings of a butterfly flitting from flower to flower on a golden day.

Merlin told his imaginary lover, “Hurry. Go. I’ll handle this mess. I’ll be here when you return.” Lips pressed to lips. Secret.

The dared dream made his eyes prick with tears.

He tidied the kitchen happily. Soap bubbles and grease.

The dream alive.

Only to be stopped by a boot heel. A punch. A kick.

His skin stretched tense like a twig ready to snap.

He gathered himself off the filthy floor. 

I’ll find you someday, he assured himself, wiping the blood from his cheek.

“I’ve got to find myself a job,” he muttered aloud.

***

Sirens screamed down the main thoroughfare, the wail piercing the night air before fading as the emergency vehicle sped out of sight. Merlin clutched the newsprint to his chest and peered into the alleyway. He shook his head and shuddered in the dark, the mist soaking his T-shirt through.

He wished he had thought to wear a hoodie, but he hadn’t anticipated the chill of the street on a spring night.

“That can’t be it,” he muttered aloud. In the dimness, he cupped his palm to his lips, blowing warm breath against the cigarette lighter he held.

He flicked the metal wheel and the flame glowed from between his fingers. In the dark, he held the broadsheet close to his eyes, the bright amber flame swathed in dusky boyish blue.

He scanned the employment advertisement and sensed his mistake almost immediately. With a flap of fingers, he closed the lighter, extinguishing the flame.

His eyes darted across the street and he began to walk in the direction that would take him to destination he sought.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” a thuggish passerby bumped his shoulder as he passed.

“Go fuck yourself,” Merlin called, too softly for the hoodlum to hear.

He tucked the paper beneath his arm before hustling across the deserted street.

In the distance the sounds of an argument raged, the words echoing off the vacant buildings of a forgotten city.

A beat up Volkswagen accelerated onto the street, barely slowing down when encountering the pedestrian ducking into a doorway. It sped out of sight, leaving Merlin alone on the street again. 

The air swirled damp and factory-made smoke into Merlin’s lungs. No matter that he had lived here for close to two years, there were still places of the city that were hidden to him. His footsteps echoed along the concrete. The voices grew louder with each step.

Since he dropped out of uni, after his mother’s death, he thought he was taking the opportunity to see the world when Mordred took his hand. He didn’t know it was going to turn out like this.

Only fifty feet away at the loading dock, the corrugated metal door roared upward, flung open by a man with long flowing hair. He gestured wildly at whoever he was arguing with, oblivious to Merlin’s presence in the alleyway.

Caught up in the scene, Merlin never heard the thug approach him from behind until it was too late.

But the long-haired man saw.

“Oy, what goes on there?” he called when a sucker punch knocked Merlin to the ground. 

“Leave it be,” shouted his opponent in the argument.

Merlin hadn’t the time to react. One moment, he was simply walking down the street, and the next, he was lying on his side with a split lip, the tinny taste of blood on his tongue. He felt the unseen stomp of a boot to his ribs before the assailant fled, chased away by the long-haired rescuer who leapt from the loading dock into the street.

“Did you stop him?” Merlin grimaced as he was helped to his feet again.

“He got away,” the rescuer said, smoothing his hands over Merlin’s rumpled T-Shirt. “Bollocks! You can’t see a bloody thing out here. Lucky we opened the door when we did. You alright mate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s this about a ghost?” Arthur asked, trotting from the loading dock to where Gwaine stood.

“Merlin?” Gwaine asked, his jaw open wide.

“Merlin,” the name rolled off Arthur’s tongue like a word he just remembered after not hearing it for a very long time, perhaps the name of a forgotten childhood pet or a cry repeated in fevered agony or a lyric pronounced in a repetitious vocal exercise.

It was apparent that Gwaine and Merlin knew each other because they now embraced and slapped each other on the back in the way that mates do. Merlin looked like he couldn’t take another hit, Gwaine outweighing him by at least two stone.

He caught Arthur’s eyes, which had hearts in them of course, despite Merlin’s waif-like appearance and enormously oversized ears as he greeted what was apparently an old friend… or lover. Arthur watched Merlin’s tongue dart out to test the sensitivity of his split lip. Merlin’s eyes had been framed by crinkled lines of joy at Gwaine’s greeting, but now he winced in pain and his face grew impossibly pale.

“Oww, mate! You’re bloody killing me,” Merlin struggled from Gwaine’s grasp and clutched his hands around his own scrawny middle. “The bastard kicked me in the ribs.”

“Sorry, Merlin,” said Gwaine. “But how the hell are you? I haven’t seen you since you dropped out of uni, was it two… three years ago?”

“Something like that,” Merlin smiled, the bits of dirt and sparkly dust from the filthy alley falling to the ground as his face dimpled.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Arthur stepped forward. “You’re cut, mate,” he said as he reached toward Merlin’s cheek. He slid the pads of his fingers along Merlin’s cheekbone, brushing away more of the dirt and swiping at the blood that oozed from the scrape that Merlin had incurred in the scuffle.

“Oh, shit,” Gwaine said, as if he was remembering his manners. “Arthur, this is Merlin Emrys, an old friend from uni. Merlin, Arthur Pendragon, he’s one of my band mates from The Knights.”

“You’re in the band? You’re a Knight?” Merlin asked, his kohl-lined eyes growing wide as Arthur’s hand fell away.

“Uh, yes,” Gwaine ducked his chin. “I’m the lead guitarist.”

“I suppose that shouldn’t come as a surprise to me. Just look how muscular your arms have become,” Merlin laughed while grabbing a handful of Gwaine’s bicep with his slender fingers. “You were always out until all hours of the morning, gigging or practicing. I never doubted you for a minute. I knew there was a future in music for you, even if I wasn’t around to see it happen myself.”

Gwaine shook his head happily, his hair falling into place perfectly. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for a job,” Merlin said. “I got a bit lost. It’s been ages since I’ve come into the city. I couldn’t find the address on the advertisement.”

“Job? Let’s see that,” Gwaine said, taking the crumbled newspaper from Merlin’s hand.

Arthur had a weird feeling that he knew what was coming next. It always worked out this way for him.

After months of planning for the Round Table Tour, his plans were blown to smithereens when one cog in the wheel went pear shaped. The solution to his problem would be just around the corner, but it would never work out the way it was supposed to. That would be too easy. His karmic debt was too far in the red for that to ever happen the way it did to normal people, or at least the way it did on a half-hour sit-com his father was so fond of watching.

“Um,” Gwaine coughed, trying to get Arthur’s attention. “It seems that Merlin is looking to fulfil our need for roadie.”

“What?” Arthur asked.

“I think he’d be perfect,” Gwaine smiled, clasping a hand to Merlin’s shoulder and pulling him in for a hug.

“Well, we can’t just…” Arthur stammered.

“Brilliant! It’s settled then!” Gwaine exclaimed.

“Gwaine! You forget that I am in charge here,” Arthur shouted before turning his attention to Merlin. “Do you even have any experience in organizing such a thing?”

“Loads,” Merlin nodded eagerly.

***

The young men adjourned to the garage’s interior, where Gwaine and Merlin regaled Arthur with tales of Merlin’s prowess at organizing the electrical wiring, lighting, and logistics for such an event. He was the president of the A/V club in High School and if anyone could get an upstart band to sound like Queen or Aerosmith before the crowds of teenagers in some Godforsaken Memorial Auditorium, it was Merlin.

Gwaine seemed confident in Merlin’s abilities and it wasn’t as if Arthur had much choice, the weight of his father’s decision bounced through Arthur’s mind like a silver pinball that smashed through barriers and set the lights flashing every time the lever was released and Arthur gave in to the thoughts.

Only a few days earlier, Arthur had stood before his father. He could tell by Uther’s incisive tone that he was furious.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like for me to get a call from one of my own men?” Uther paced the floor in front of his desk, hands clasped behind his back.

Arthur kept his back straight and hung his head. The carpeting of the chief’s office in the Camelot Police Department never looked more interesting. Outside the office, the squad room bustled with the shuffling of papers and the beeping transmissions of the radio equipment as Camelot’s finest worked to keep the city’s streets free of crime.

Uther stopped in front of Arthur. 

“How are you ever going to obtain a position in this department when you keep carrying on with your current companions?”

“But father-“Arthur began.

“You will speak when spoken to,” Uther railed, his eyes filled with fury.

Arthur’s lips went thin as he swallowed, averting his father’s icy stare.

“If your recklessness costs me my bid for early retirement, our whole family will suffer. When you’ve gotten this band nonsense out of your system, you’ll come to work for me.”

“But father, I have no desire to do police work. I was born to perform-”

“You’ll get it out of your system first,” Uther said, running a gloved hand across the desk. His fingers caught the edge of a picture frame that resided there. With an unanticipated degree of tenderness, Uther lifted the frame from the desk.

Lowering his eyes to the picture behind the glass, he spoke deliberately, “Your mother always loved music.”

Arthur shuddered at his words, his eyes welling with tears for the woman he never knew.

“I’ll give you one chance, Arthur,” Uther said.

Arthur glanced up to feel his father’s eyes pierce right through him and to hear his words as cold as a December chill.

“When the Round Table Tour of yours is over, your job with me will begin,” Uther said with the calculated precision of a brain surgeon.

“But, what if it’s successful? We could extend the tour for months and your plans for my future would be on hold,” Arthur questioned.

“I have my doubts about its success,” said Uther.

Arthur doubted its success, too. For one thing, they needed a roadie now that Gilli was gone. This project was doomed, thought Arthur.

“Arthur, Arthur?” Gwaine shook his arm. “Have you listened to a fucking thing we’ve said?”

“I have. That’s why I ran the ad in the paper,” Arthur said. “Merlin Emrys, welcome to The Knights.”

***

Merlin declined the offer for a ride home. Instead he shuffled back down the dark alley from whence he came.

“So, tell me the truth, Gwaine,” Arthur said. “Was there something between you two in uni?”

“Nothing but some harmless fun, mate,” Gwaine replied.

Arthur smirked and clapped Gwaine on the shoulder. “You’d best be off now. I’ll lock up. You don’t want to keep Elyan waiting.”

“The Round Table Tour… it’s going to work out for us. I just know it will,” Gwaine assured him before jumping into his BMW.

“Easy for you to say, friend,” Arthur whispered, almost to himself as Gwaine drove away.

Arthur picked up the garage as best he could, tossing empty pizza boxes into the bin and making sure the amplifiers and sound equipment were turned off and stored for the night.

It was a small relief that he and Gwaine had been able to work through the difficulty that Gilli’s departure meant for The Knights, although Arthur sensed that Gwaine had no idea what a failure of their tour would mean to Arthur. Working for Chief Pendragon was the last thing he aspired to do with his future and he’d try to avoid it at all costs.

In many ways, Arthur was jealous of Gwaine, he thought as he pulled the corrugated garage door closed, the sound of metal on metal screeching through the alleyway.

Gwaine had Elyan to go home to. A hot meal, a warm bed. An adequate rhythm guitarist to set the rhythm for his life.

What did Arthur have?

A father bent on him taking over the police force like he did when he was Arthur’s age.

A uni degree, but little chance for gainful employment in this dire economy.

Arthur slid into the seat of his Smart Car and jammed the key into the ignition. He turned the key to hear the engine mewl to life and then pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending headache.

The only thing he had that was truly his own, was his position as lead singer of The Knights, a cover band, but a damn good one. And they weren’t just a cover band, he heard himself plead to his father when he begged him to write the check to secure the Avalon Theatre for the opening night of The Round Table Tour. They had written original songs too, although no one had ever heard of them… yet.

He shifted into gear and sped toward home, hoping that Uther wouldn’t be waiting up for him.

And what was with that Merlin kid?

Why did every new person he met make him have hearts in his eyes? It was a sickness, he thought. A sickness that he was left alone when everyone else had someone. And, it wasn’t like he was particularly discerning either.

He mentally rattled off his list of paired friends: Gwaine had Elyan, of course, but there was Leon and Percival as well.

Gwen, who Arthur had fucked once when she was passed around like a bong at a Grateful Dead concert, was inseparable from Lance these days.

Someday, it would be Arthur’s turn… if his father didn’t kill him first.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur didn’t notice the weight of his armour as he stood atop the ridge waiting for the right moment to lead the charge. It was the weight of his heart that burdened him and the worry that he may be too late. With Percival by his side and Leon at the far end of the ranks, he raised Excalibur in his right hand, the first rays of sunrise cracking the horizon.

Below him, an encampment of tents rose from the dim valley floor like nipples on a mother cat. He focused on fifth tent from the left, the one with the door sealed shut against the wind, its flag bearing the seal of Mercia whipping and curling against itself.

He trusted his scouts when they returned with word that this was the tent that held the captive.

The Mercians wandered from their sleeping places in the chill morning air. Their grogginess would be Arthur’s advantage.

“For the love of Camelot!” Arthur cried, signalling the battle to begin.

Mercians fell to the knight’s blows on either side of Arthur as he rushed down the incline, the enemy’s numbers far outweighed by the knight’s skill and determination.

Guarded by Percival’s intimidating bulk, Arthur tore the tent flaps open. In the dark, he dropped to his knees beside the hunched figure that shivered on the dirt floor.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered.

Merlin’s eyes found Arthur’s in the dim light that entered through the tent door. He mumbled something incomprehensible.

“I’m here, love,” Arthur breathed. He sliced through the leather bindings and pulled the ratty neckerchief from where it was wadded into Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin gasped a deep breath and licked his lips while, with one swift movement of his sword, Arthur freed Merlin from the ropes that bound his hands and ankles.

Merlin rubbed his jaw with a grimy palm. “What took you so long?” he asked, his eyes bright.

“On your feet, idiot,” Arthur said, a smile in his voice. He slid his hands under Merlin’s arms and pulled Merlin to him.

Listening to the sounds of the diminishing battle outside, Arthur bit the fingers of his right glove to remove it from his hand. He let his knuckles graze the skin of Merlin’s cheek where he had suffered a wound at the hands of his captors.

He pressed his forehead to Merlin’s and said, “Let’s get you home.”

“Merlin?” Arthur’s hands silently grasped at nothing but the bedsheets. 

“Merlin!” 

Arthur woke from his sleep, shaking his head to clear the memory of the strange dream. He must have been thinking of that Merlin kid that Gwaine talked him into hiring. There was something about him, Arthur remembered, his face sprinkled with road grime and skin smudged with blood. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. He hoped to hell he hadn’t recognized his face from a Most Wanted poster or a mug shot left hanging around his father’s office. No, there was definitely something, but the kid probably weighed 100 pounds soaking wet, so it was unlikely that he was involved in a strong arm robbery or something equally nefarious. That’s all he needed, for his father to point out that Arthur had hired a wanted criminal. Arthur smirked at the thought.

The wind-up alarm clock ticked away the seconds remaining until dawn. At three o’clock in the morning, they were too numerous for Arthur to count.

He padded barefoot across the kitchen floor, triggering the soft glow of motion-sensitive lighting to illuminate his way. He opened the refrigerator door and selected a water bottle from behind Morgana’s smoothie concoction that was made from seaweed and tasted even worse. 

After he chugged half the water bottle down, he returned to bed, the lights dimming automatically in his wake.

***

Merlin checked his mobile phone a dozen times on his way home, making certain that he had secured the contact information for every member of The Knights, complete with passwords and encryptions that would keep it safe from Mordred’s prying eyes. Keeping them secret made him feel safe, like he had some control of the whirlwind that was his life since his mother’s death.

He had never meant to get involved with Mordred. With his mother dead, his Ealdorian childhood home had become strangely unfamiliar. The time was right for a move. He had met Mordred on his first night in the city. Naïve, and not a little bit nervous, he hooked up with the first man who could provide a roof over his head. He knew it was a mistake, but he had no other options. He sold his guitar, his equipment, the dream of becoming a musician was dead to him now. He couldn’t stand the sound of the radio on most days, since Mordred had come into his life. Maybe that could change someday soon.

He reached the gate and felt for the latch that allowed him entry to the walkway. Checking for wayward skunks or raccoons, he passed through the narrow entrance to the door and fitted his key into the slot. The hall light illuminated the stairway. Merlin passed by the doorways of the tenement residents, the smells of their cooking and sounds of their voices as they lived and loved in the city spilled out into Merlin’s path.

He took the stairs slowly to the second floor, the third, and pausing for a few moments to gather himself before he ascended to the fourth. Breathing heavily, he inserted his key and opened the door to find Mordred busy at the stove.

“Ah,” Mordred turned to face Merlin. “The birthday boy has finally returned home.”

“Beltane,” Merlin nodded before placing a kiss on Mordred’s lips. “I had nearly forgotten.”

“Yes, Beltane,” Mordred said. “Sit. Eat.”

Merlin pulled out a chair and sat while Mordred doled the mass of pasta and vegetables onto his plate.

“Wine?” Mordred asked, pouring what he knew to be Merlin’s favourite white varietal straight from the bottle.

The wine helped, Merlin thought, taking a sip to wash down the asparagus. He longed for a time when he could feel loose and relaxed, able to say anything without it being held against him later. To be accepted for all his quirks and shortcomings, without the feeling that he was incurring a huge debt that he’d have to someday repay.

“I have something else for you,” Mordred said, when they were nearly done eating, the fluorescent kitchen light making his eyes glow amber.

“You do?” Merlin said, slurring his words, despite taking only tiny sips of the wine. 

“I know you want me to make you mine,” Mordred smiled. “I know you want to belong to me in every way.”

Merlin’s mother had always taught him to be appreciative, so he obeyed his instinct, effusive in his appreciation. “What do you have in mind? Some kind of surprise for me?”

“What else could you possibly hope for?” Mordred replied. “A boy in your situation. No mother to look after you. No job to look after yourself. You’re nothing, no one without me. I’ll own you, Emrys.”

All of a sudden Merlin felt very tired. He vaguely believed that Mordred was going to present him with a piece of jewellery, a ring, maybe.

“Mordred? What have you done?” Merlin slumped over the table and eyed his wine glass.

“Nothing you’ll regret later,” Mordred replied.

Merlin barely remembered his pants being pushed down and the slice of the razor blade against his skin. 

But there was music.

Somewhere in the back of his drug-addled mind, there was song.

Music… when he remembered Arthur and tomorrow’s practice at the garage.

***

Drums thumped, cymbals clinked and clanged, and the squelch of feedback squealed from the amplifiers.

Elyan and Leon got a good riff going, each arpeggio of fingers on strings building upon each other until the notes blended almost orgasmically, drowning out the sound of Arthur and Gwaine’s voices.

Arthur scowled. Gwaine’s hair bounced attractively with each angry utterance. They waved their arms and shouted, put their hands on their hips and stared red-faced at each other, and eventually folded their arms across their chests and turned their backs on each other.

Leon’s bass had the last word when he plucked a high C before dropping the instrument so it swung long and loose from its strap.

“There’s the man,” Leon said, gesturing to Merlin, as he rolled beneath the corrugated door, arriving in the garage like a whirling dervish.

“I told you he’d show up, Princess,” Gwaine jabbed Arthur in the chest with a finger.

“Uh, hi guys,” Merlin said, gingerly getting to his feet.

“It’s about time,” Arthur said, taking a few steps toward him.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I was late,” Merlin said. “Gwaine said six o’clock, yeah?”

Arthur turned to Gwaine, who simply shrugged in response.

“No matter. You’re here now,” said Arthur. “You can start by going over our play lists and sorting out which instruments belong to which musician.”

“I’ve done some research,” said Merlin. He ambled over to the table where Arthur stood, and removed the satchel from his shoulder.

“Are you limping, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“It’s nothing,” Merlin said quickly, spreading out the schematic for the Avalon Theatre so the band members could gather around to see what he had done.

Arthur’s finger followed Merlin’s hand-drawn blocking notations for where the musicians might travel across the stage and what lighting suggestions for each performer might work best. He already had a list of favoured instruments that he had apparently acquired on his own from each band mate. Everything seemed to be neatly chronicled in a loose-leaf binder with pocket tabs and post it notes affixed to the important parts where Merlin had scribbled questions in longhand.

“You’ve done your homework,” smiled Gwaine, patting Merlin on the back.

Arthur noticed Merlin wince uncomfortably before continuing to explain his diagrams and ask the pertinent questions. Arthur leaned back from the table, suddenly feeling that he had little to say.

The band mates laughed and seemed to embrace Merlin like a long lost brother. In just Merlin’s first live meeting with the full band, things were going well. Perhaps too well, thought Arthur when he felt the vibration of his mobile in his pocket.

“Yes father,” Arthur replied, walking toward the loading dock door.

“But,” Arthur interjected.

“No,” Arthur complained.

“I’ll never approve of them,” Arthur threatened.

“Yes, father,” Arthur relented, before shoving the phone back into his pocket, wishing he’d never taken the call. He walked back to the table, where the men were still animated in conversation.

“Something wrong?” asked Gwaine.

“That was my father. He’s hired an opening band for the Round Table Tour. It’s The Black Zigzags.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Fuck, yeah! Black Zigzags!” Percival shouted, beating on the table with his ever-present pair of wooden drumsticks.

Merlin laughed nervously when Leon scowled at Percival. He punched his partner in the arm, a strike that could do no damage, no matter how much weight he put behind it.

“You guys had better be good,” Merlin said with a grin. “The Black Zigzags are sick.”

Gwaine put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “We are so screwed,” Gwaine said. “There goes four years of Musicology, down the tubes.” He shoved Merlin playfully.

Arthur took two steps toward Gwaine. “What do you mean by that, Gwaine?” he asked, his voice calculated and raw, his hands perched on his hips.

Merlin watched Arthur’s jaw clench in the stagnant air of the warehouse that they had converted into rehearsal space. The vein that ran vertically between Arthur’s right eye and his hairline grew as expansive as a mole tunnel.

“Well it’s obvious that they’ll upstage us,” Gwaine said. “It doesn’t matter if we plan for The Round Table Tour to continue all summer. Once the Black Zigzags show up on the scene, they’ll take all the media with them- the record producers, the magazine editors, along with the fans… our fans.”

“We have fans?” Merlin asked Gwaine under his breath.

“You look worried,” Arthur said, taking a step toward Merlin. “Are you worried that the Black Zigzags will upstage us as well?”

“Whoa,” Merlin said, his hands in the air. “Far be it for me to question whether you’re as talented as Cenred. But the Black Zigzags won every Battle of the Bands when they were in High School for four years running.”

“I’ve heard they got an offer from a record company, but they only wanted Morgause,” Elyan said.

“That’s true,” Percy added. “I think they wanted her on the kit for a chick band. Of course as any self-respecting drummer would do, she told them to fuck off.”

“Well, we’ve got a problem, men,” Arthur said, tapping the schedule for The Round Table Tour that Merlin had so thoughtfully assembled. “The tour is set to begin the first week of June, when the schools let out for the summer recess. If the Black Zigzags lure their fans into supporting their tour, there’ll be no Round Table Tour after the first night, maybe the second night, if we’re lucky.”

“Can’t you do something about your old man?” Gwaine asked. “This is shite. Why is he putting the screws to us?”

“Shut it,” Lancelot said. “You’re not the only one who has their future riding on this tour.”

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. The scraped flesh on his hip burned against the fabric of his jeans. He wondered if the cuts had started to bleed again. The tension between the band members was making his head ache.

“It’s not always all about you, Gwaine,” Arthur said. “We must practice as best we can, so when opening night comes, we’re ready and we’re better than the Black Zigzags have ever been. It’s our only chance. Now, are you with me?”

“With you!” every man shouted, the echo reverberating off the walls and rattling the cymbals and the corrugated garage door.

Merlin stepped back as he watched the display of the men pledging their allegiance to Arthur and the band. If he had ever given a second thought as to whether the time was right for him to get involved with music again, the answer was there in the sweaty sheen of Arthur’s hair and in the microphone he held aloft.

“Let’s take a tenner and then start from the top of the play list,” Arthur said. “Don’t go far. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

***

Merlin looked over the papers and kept himself available for the bandmates to ask questions about the folders and sheaf of paper he had brought with him to begin his organizational work. When they seemed satisfied with his answers and had wandered off to attend to their instruments or had stood outside the garage door to check their mobiles for missed messages and the latest news, Merlin headed for the loo.

He tried desperately to not call attention to himself by walking funny because, to be honest, he was fucking embarrassed. Although he had only just met these guys, he felt pretty sure that they’d wonder why the fuck he would have let his boyfriend mar his skin like he did.

He knew Mordred meant well, but couldn’t he have just brought home some flowers or taken him to a film, instead of taking a razor to his skin?

All in all, it wasn’t that bad, he told himself. He actually sort of thought he could learn to like it. He imagined what it would be like to tell friends how he got the image as a gift for his twenty-fifth birthday. He had no reason to think it would seem odd or unseemly, despite the fact that Mordred had to get him intoxicated before he proposed the action. Merlin had convinced himself it was a good thing. It was a gift. It showed that someone cared about him.

Looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he wasn’t so sure he could be as convincing as he thought.

He dragged his cock out of his jeans and took a piss before having a quick look around to make sure no one was about.

Running his tongue over the place where his split lip had healed over, he turned so his left side was visible in the mirror.

He hooked his thumb into the waistband and tugged the material away from his skin. The sharp sting of air against the raw flesh made him bite down on the inside of his cheek.

The sounds of the guys working on the seemingly endless tuning and re-tuning of their guitars, coupled by Percy’s sudden and unpredictable bursts into a drum solo at random moments, masked the sound of footsteps as they approached the loo.

Merlin watched the image of himself in the mirror, the door behind him, while he sneaked a glance at the five lines carved into his skin.

The mark was as big as a child’s hand, the lines touching at their five apexes where they joined, forming a star, a pentagram, as Mordred had called it.

The scar had barely bled, but the fine crimson lines had turned red and now appeared to be turning white at the centre of each one.

Just then, the loo door swung open and Merlin caught Arthur’s eyes in the mirror. He tugged his jeans up and tried to act nonchalant on his way to wash his hands in the sink.

“Everything alright?” asked Arthur.

Merlin could swear that Arthur’s eyes had swiftly raked across the exposed skin before he had covered himself. He could only hope that he wouldn’t ask about what he may have seen.

“Just great,” Merlin managed a smile.

“We’ll be getting started in just a minute.”

Merlin escaped out the loo door before Arthur had time to open his zipper.

***

Four hours later, Arthur jumped from the loading dock onto the creviced blacktop of the alley. He thought the practice had gone well, despite the disturbing news he received about the Black Zigzags. He hoped that his mates would be able to rise to the challenge presented by the drumming diva and her… what was Cenred? Her brother? Her lover? Her employee? Arthur shook his head. Damned if he knew.

The Smart Car purred to life and Arthur shifted it into gear. He slowly accelerated through the alley, avoiding rubbish bins and parked cars, easy to do in a vehicle that he could barely fit into. The car was his father’s idea-something that would make him look fiscally and environmentally responsible, no doubt.

He sounded the horn’s pitiful beep when he passed the dock. Leon waved goodnight with a cigarette in his hand as he leaned against the metal railing, waiting with his bass for Percival to bring the car around.

When Arthur turned onto the main road, he caught a glimpse of a familiar loping figure, as Merlin made his way home.

“You’ll not get away that easily,” Arthur muttered aloud.

He sped up and pulled alongside Merlin whilst he gingerly walked.

“There’s definitely something odd about you, Merlin,” he said before rolling down his window.

“Hey,” Arthur called to Merlin. “Can you help me find my lost puppy?”

Merlin leaned onto the car’s frame and poked his face through the window. “Sorry, mate. My mother warned me about getting into cars with strangers.”

Arthur couldn’t help but grin. “Can I give you a lift?”

Merlin stood upright and scanned the road. For what, Arthur wasn’t sure.

“Not tonight, mate,” Merlin said, his teeth biting down on the tip of his tongue, as if he was considering a different answer. “I’m all set.”

“Alright then,” Arthur said, swallowing hard. “Have a safe trip.”

“You too,” Merlin said. He rapped his knuckles on the yellow car door and crossed the road.

Arthur watched him disappear in the side mirror, as he drove, his thin body braced against the chilly night.

In sequence, the Pendragon’s lights illuminated the driveway when Arthur pulled in. He waited for the automatic garage door to allow the Smart Car inside, where Arthur nestled the vehicle between the Vauxhall Vectra and Morgana’s Prius.

Upstairs in his room, he untied his trainers and kicked them off. He considered just going to sleep, but there was something he needed to take care of first. Grabbing a towel from the doorknob, he headed for the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go. While the steam billowed from above the shower stall, he pulled his shirt off and tossed it into the hamper. He undid his jeans and shoved them down and whilst he stood in front of the mirror, he remembered what he had seen earlier in the loo when Merlin was taking his time getting back to the practice.

“What the hell was that?” he mused aloud, sliding a hand over his own bare hip where the marks had been on Merlin.

He remembered that Merlin’s eyes looked like he had been up to something, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Arthur let his hand slide across his stomach, reaching down to squeeze his balls, while his half-hard cock vied for his attention. He stepped into the shower and grabbed the lotion, squirting a dollop of it into his hand. The rivulets of hot water ran through his hair, dripping from his eyelashes, from his nose, his lips.

With his left hand braced against the shower wall, his right hand stripped his cock. It wasn’t the hot steam or the slick friction that sent him over the edge, but the image of the boy with the scarred pale skin.


	5. Chapter 5

“Well, look who’s decided to grace us with his presence this morning,” Uther said, looking up from the Sunday paper.

Arthur pulled a cinnamon coloured jumper over his head and smoothed it down over his white V-neck T-shirt, before heading toward the buffet to grab a cup for his coffee.

“Late night?” Morgana asked, licking the orange juice from her lips and casting a smirk Arthur’s way.

“I could ask you the same thing, Morgana,” Arthur said, pulling out a chair from the long dining table.

“Don’t be silly, Arthur. Uther knows I would never disrespect him by arriving home so late that I wake the whole house.”

Arthur reached for the discarded sports page that lay next to his place setting. The light above his head switched on and illuminated his place setting. “There’s no way you heard me,” he said. “I was quiet as a mouse. Unless, of course, you ran out of sleeping pills again.”

“Uther?” Morgana said, affronted, but the emotion wasn’t necessary.

“Children,” Uther interjected, “You’ll show Morgana some respect, Arthur. As long as she is a guest in this house, you’ll treat her as one.”

Arthur sulked as he poured the cereal into his bowl. As an only child, he never wanted a sister and now that Morgana had arrived in the Pendragon household, he wanted one even less. He poured the milk over the flakes, wishing she would learn to shut up. He cursed the day when his father broke the news to him that he would be hosting the daughter or a dear friend, a fellow officer who was shot dead in the line of duty.

It was the least he could do, Uther explained.

It was just one way that Uther put the brotherhood and all it stood for above Arthur. To serve and protect, unless the subject was your deadbeat musician son.

Uther put his newspaper down and pulled a glossy brochure from the clipboard that lay innocuously by his fork. 

The Police Academy training begins on September first,” he said, tapping the tri-folded brochure depicting a man with a gun. “I believe your musical dabbling will have met its conclusion by then. I expect you to complete your application paperwork before that so called ‘Tour’ begins.”

Arthur took a bite of cereal, soggy already from being left too long drowning in the milk. Arthur felt like he was flake himself, drowning in his father’s self-important rhetoric.

“I think it’s a wonderful thing you’re doing for him, Uther,” Morgana reached across the table to pat Uther’s hand. “I know I’m grateful for my father’s help in making me who I am. If he hadn’t gotten me that job at Velvet Rocks, I don’t know what I’d be doing. I’m sure I wouldn’t have the career I have now.”

“You call that a career?” Arthur asked, raising his coffee cup to his lips. “I hardly think photographing celebrities whilst they are clad in velvet, qualifies as a viable career path.”

“He’s got a point, Morgana,” Uther said. “Maybe you ought to start branching out. Consider lace, or perhaps silk-”

“I’ve heard enough,” Arthur said, bunching his napkin from his lap and tossing it onto the table. “I’m off for the day.”

He pressed a kiss to his father’s temple and nodded toward Morgana, before climbing into the Smart Car and heading toward his destination for the day.

***

If castle walls could talk, their words would fill the imagination of a Sunday drive.

“Please…” Merlin cried out.

“Arthur,” he begged, arching his hips off the bed. “I need… I need…”

Arthur’s hands held Merlin’s hips firm while he slowly laved the prickled skin of his balls, paying no attention to Merlin’s cock that strained helpless and drooling against the warm air of their bedchamber.

From his position nestled between Merlin’s spread legs, Arthur laughed softly. “You have to tell me what you want, Merlin,” he said, his breath fluttering the fine hair of Merlin’s inner thigh. “How am I to guess how best to please you?”

“Suck me, you insufferable prat,” Merlin half-shouted and half-laughed, tugging against the ribbons that Arthur had used to tie each of Merlin’s wrists to the bedposts.

Arthur hummed, happily licking a path up the inside of Merlin’s thigh to where the crease demarked the end of thigh and the beginning of balls, before again tasting the twin bollocks dotted with their coarse black hair.

Beside the bed, Merlin’s long Camelot-red leather coat, a gift from the king, lay draped across the chair where just an hour earlier they had celebrated Merlin’s birthday privately. The king had fed slices of gingered pears and exotic orange wedges from the Far East between his former servant’s lips and they had enjoyed chasing the nectar that dripped between their sticky fingers with soft pink tongues before Merlin got the brilliant idea about what to do with the lovely blue ribbons that adorned the packaging in which the coat arrived. They now adorned Merlin’s wrists as he struggled, not so very strenuously, to free himself from the bedposts.

He writhed against Arthur, trying to get his cock to make any sort of contact with Arthur’s mouth which continued to lick elsewhere in a sweet torture.

“Please, Arthur, I need to come,” Merlin laughed in exasperation.

Arthur finally relented, propping himself up on his hands and licking along Merlin’s cock, feeling the smooth skin pulse beneath his tongue.

Before taking Merlin’s demanding cock into his mouth, Arthur felt a wash of magic begin to course through him. He slipped the cockhead past his lips and gracelessly sucked Merlin into his wet warm mouth. As he did so, he slid the very tip of his index finger inside Merlin’s inviting hole, just the way Merlin favoured it, the saliva from Arthur’s previous ministrations making it a smooth and delicious glide.

Merlin uttered the words that Arthur couldn’t recognize as he came, the flood of his released power filling Arthur’s being with the force of a thousand rivers and wrenching his orgasm from him without so much as a brush of Arthur’s cock against the sheets.

Arthur’s hands stroked Merlin’s sides, quelling the convulsing gasms that made his stomach quiver. He swallowed what come was in his mouth and licked the remaining sap from Merlin’s loins.

Straddling Merlin, he dropped kisses to his quaking chest before reaching to release a ribbon-tied wrist from the bedpost.

“You know, you could have ensorcelled yourself free at any time,” Arthur said.

“Of course, I know that,” Merlin craned his neck to reach Arthur’s lips with his own.

“Just as you magicked my come from me.”

Merlin laughed, his head sinking back into the pillows. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?”

Arthur released the second ribbon and slid into Merlin’s embrace, rubbing his arms that had been bound. When he was satisfied that he had massaged any discomfort away, he took Merlin’s hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“Tell me, love,” Arthur said, thinking for a moment. “Suck my cock, you insufferable prat? Really? Is that any way to speak to your king?”

Arthur brought the Smart Car to a stop on the gravel. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the daydream his mind had conjured while he drove. Opening the car door, he took a deep breath. From up here, atop Mt. Tintagel, he could see everything. The city, with its buildings, factories, and bridges, gleamed on the horizon. He exited the car and walked to the grassy field that blanketed the summit. With the sun on his face, he sat cross-legged on the grass and let himself relax far from the reaches of his family.

***

Merlin balanced himself on the rickety chair, his long fingers reaching into the closet to feel the high shelf. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. His nails scratched against the cardboard box. He stood on tiptoe to give himself another inch or two in range, the chair creaking dangerously below him despite his slender weight. 

In a flash, he pictured himself lying on the floor unconscious when Mordred awoke. He’d see the toppled chair and Merlin’s body, maybe blood, and he’d definitely know what Merlin had been doing. The ruse would be up then, Merlin snorted.

As it was, Merlin thought it must seem pretty pathetic, to an outsider, to have to hide money from his boyfriend. What kind of idiot would get himself in the position that he had to do such a thing? He chided himself over it on more than one occasion, but every time, he heaved a sigh and told himself it was one small thing he could do to try to escape what he was tempted to call Mordred’s reign of terror.

This wasn’t a resolution that Merlin took lightly.

Since they had been together, Mordred had always told Merlin that he would look after him. In exchange, Merlin took care of the flat, and their household chores, while looking for employment. Although he had worked a few odd jobs over the two years, nothing seemed to be permanent. With the dire economic situation, Merlin worried that he’d never find something to do.

He was fortunate that Gwaine vouched for his talent when he interviewed with The Knights. He had no doubt that Gwaine remembered his skills with their electrical engineering projects at uni. His mother used to tell him that he inherited his talent for working with electricity from his father who he had never met. Although his mother spoke fondly of Balinor, she hadn’t seen him since well before Merlin was born. 

He dug his fingernails under the lid of the box and pulled it forward. A small puff of dust erupted from the shelf when he took the box in his hands and stepped carefully off the chair and onto the floor.

The sounds of the tenement coming to life worried him in the early morning darkness. Slamming doors, a crying baby, furniture being dragged across the floor for one reason or another, all combined to fuel Merlin’s anxiety.

He set the box onto the seat of the chair and pried open the lid. Glancing toward the bedroom door to assure himself that Mordred wasn’t awake, he fished the roll of wadded up notes from the jeans in the pile of laundry on the floor. He lifted the edge of some of the papers, a letter of reference, some old uni transcripts, and a photograph of his mother, and shoved the money beneath it.

He didn’t dare hesitate to reminisce with the photograph, although he knew he would like to revisit it someday when he was finally free.

He closed the lid of the box and lifted it from the seat while he stood on the chair to return his treasure to its place for safekeeping.

Sliding the box across the shelf, he heard Mordred groan in his sleep.

He stepped down from the chair and closed the closet door, willing it into silence as the hinges threatened to creak.

When the door was firmly shut, he replaced the chair in the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” Mordred said, unmoving from the bedroom door.

Merlin wilted in his shoes.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur turned into the alley and parked the Smart Car in the tiny space next to the Beemer. He pushed his aviators onto his head, their amber tint making it impossible to see in the dim alley beside the warehouse. He took the steps two by two, rapping his silver ring on the metal bannister and fiddling with the door knob before he pried it open, lest he catch Gwaine and Elyan in an untowardly act.

He wasn’t surprised by the sight that greeted him.

“Get a room,” he quipped, when they came into view.

Gwaine took his time extricating himself from Elyan’s lap, but not before he bit into the slice of pizza held within reach of his mouth by his lover.

“Christ, it’s not even noon,” Arthur said. In one swift movement, he pulled a folding chair out from the round table and spun it around so the chairback rested against the table’s edge. Straddling the seat, he plopped himself down and tore a slice of pizza from the box.

“Don’t be jealous, Princess,” Gwaine said, taking his own seat next to Elyan. “It doesn’t become you.”

“Shut up, Gwaine,” Arthur said, between bites of pepperoni.

“Do tell, Arthur,” Elyan said, plunging his fingers into Gwaine’s hair and stroking the back of his neck. “How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?”

“Too long, apparently, if I’m jealous of you two,” Arthur smirked.

Gwaine choked on his pizza. “Surely you’re not thinking of playing for the other team?” he asked.

“Bloody hell, I reckon he is,” Elyan said, pushing Gwaine. He tossed his pizza crust back into the box, steepled his hands and said, “Tell us, do you have anyone special in mind.”

“Because if you do,” Gwaine interjected. “We’ll be happy to set you up with all the free instructional porn you’ll need to-”

“I don’t need any instructional porn,” Arthur said, exasperatedly. “I have no one in mind.”

Gwaine raised an eyebrow toward Elyan. “We know how easily you fall in love, Arthur. You forget who you’re talking to. He was asking me about Merlin just the other day.”

“Too skinny,” Elyan shook his head.

“Even for you?” Gwaine asked.

Elyan replaced his hand on the back of Gwaine’s neck and tugged his hair. “Why would I ever let my eye wander to Merlin, from you, love. It would like trading an Abercrombie model for Ralph Lauren.”

“You do realize that I hate you both,” Arthur said.

“So, for how long have you been thinking you’re gay?” asked Gwaine.

“I’m not gay! Besides, my father would kill me if I were gay. Bad enough that I’m in a band with you lot. He already thinks you’re a bad influence on me.”

“Issues!” Elyan shouted in a sing-song voice.

“There are no issues! Look at all the girls I’ve dated. There’s Elena... Vivian... Sophia,” he counted on his fingers.

“Horrible experiences, all,” lamented Elyan.

“They weren’t _all_ horrible,” Arthur complained.

“Sophia’s father tried to kill you,” Gwaine nodded.

“And who knows what happened between you and the others,” Elyan pointed out helpfully.

“All those bad experiences. I can understand perfectly well why you’d want to dabble,” Gwaine nodded.

“It happens to the best of them,” Elyan added. “Even Gwen had a thing for your sister.”

“Morgana’s not my sister,” Arthur retorted. “Change the subject! What about Merlin?”

“What about him?” asked Gwaine.

“You’ve _been_ with him. Does something seem a bit off about him?” asked Arthur.

“I think he has a boyfriend,” said Gwaine.

“He does,” Arthur confirmed. “He’s listed him in his contact information as his next of kin. But does everything seem alright there? I just have an odd feeling about it.”

Just then the door opened to the garage. Arthur could tell there was something wrong from Gwaine and Elyan’s expressions as they looked beyond Arthur to the doorway.

“Merlin!” Gwaine said. “What on earth happened to you?”

***

It had started out as a simple thing. A useful project. A hobby even. Something that should have been enjoyable. But it escalated quickly into something very different.

Something was wrong with the clock radio. It was one of those old L.E.D. versions that you might find at a flea market. A second hand version couldn’t have cost a pound at most. They has lost popularity since everyone started using their iPods and wristwatches to wake up for work in the morning.

The _radio_ feature of the old unit hadn’t worked properly for as long as Merlin had been under Mordred’s roof.

But on this lazy Sunday, feeling a bit smug with his talents, Merlin decided to spend his morning having a go at it.

His head was encircled with a ring of plastic into which a magnifying glass was set. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he worked at the kitchen table, quietly humming to himself.

A bevy of miniature screws lay next to him on the old dishtowel he had spread on the table. Merlin fiddled with the wires, tweaking and untweaking, screwing and unscrewing, clipping and unclipping, until he discovered the cause of the problem.

“I can remedy that,” he said aloud, before cutting a length of wire.

His long deft fingers spun the delicate silver braid into a shape that would conduct electricity. He then trimmed away at the braid’s intended mate, cutting through the rubberized coating and through the wires themselves with his snips. Panting softly with excitement, he twisted the wires into place.

When all was said, done, clipped, snipped, and entwined, he kicked back his chair and, with cord in hand, plugged the unit into the outlet beside the stove. Flipping the unit on, he wanted to test the connection before he reassembled the radio to its normal condition and appearance again.

He listened closely.

Static.

He turned the tuning knob imperceptibly, adjusting the volume when he got close to a station, his ear flush with the ancient speaker.

He had done it.

He smiled, elated at his success. Maybe he could do something useful after all, he thought.

Pleased with himself for fixing the broken clock radio he stepped back to listen to the results of his work. He turned the dial and the music grew louder, jangling guitar strings and the haunting tones of synsonic percussion blared through the antiquated speaker. He hadn’t noticed the rubberized clippings of wire that had fallen to the floor.

There had to have been only one of two pieces of the debris, no more than a centimetre in length, but they did not escape Mordred’s notice when he arrived home from a Sunday walk.

“What’s all this?” Mordred asked, gesturing to the floor without stopping to remove his coat.

“Just some wires,” Merlin said happily. “Hey, I fixed the radio, yeah?”

“I told you that you shouldn’t work on things in the kitchen,” Mordred replied.

“It’s just a little messy. I can clean it up. Hey, give a listen,” Merlin said excitedly.

“That’s not the point, Merlin,” Mordred scowled. “There’s not supposed to be wire clippings all over the place. I’ve told you before **not** to do that.”

“Christ, Mordred, can’t you just be thankful that I fixed the damn thing?” Merlin asked, trying hard to not sound like he was whining.

“Are you talking back to me?” Mordred took a step closer. “Who do you think you are?”

It had started out as a simple thing. 

But when the morning was over, Merlin had a black eye.

And Mordred hadn’t apologised.

***

Arthur turned around in his chair and looked toward the door.

Merlin looked as normal as ever. The same ratty jeans and threadbare T-shirt hung from his scrawny frame. His ever-present satchel swung casually from his right shoulder. He had dispensed with the kohl enhancements beneath his eyes for today, and with good reason. His left eye was nearly swollen shut. The skin around it shined with iridescent shades of purple and blue.

“God, Merlin,” exclaimed Elyan, who was closest to the door. “What in hell happened to you?”

“Looks like you lost a battle there, mate,” Gwaine said, dropping his slice of pizza and rushing to Merlin’s side. “I’d hate to see what the other guy looked like.”

“Oh, this?” Merlin asked nonchalantly. “No, I hate to disappoint you. It’s Just the result of a rousing game of footie.”

Elyan and Gwaine looked at each other.

Merlin dropped his bag on the tabletop closest to the door and began to confidently fish through the paperwork he needed for the practice session.

Arthur didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

Arthur knew Gwaine to be a bit of a scrapper, despite his pretty looks, and he sensed that Gwaine’s reaction indicated that Merlin’s injury had not occurred on the pitch. Before Arthur had too long to think about it, Leon and Percival arrived, followed by Lance who was accompanied by Gwen. They planned to do a run-through of their set and Gwen was there to get a feel for when Arthur thought backing vocals would be needed.

Once the amps were plugged in and the musicians had performed the inexorable tuning of their instruments, the session began.

As the hours passed, Arthur conferred with Gwen about the vocals for each song. The usual arguments broke out of whether to scrap a song or replace it with another that was a well-practiced favourite. Merlin took copious notes about the staging of each song, sometimes gleefully tearing his sheets of paper into bits and tossing them into the air to land on the floor like confetti when a particular song for which he had the diagramming complete was struck from the set list.

The afternoon flew by, with The Knights performing most of the songs in their original portfolio, as well as some cover songs that were sure to stir the crowd.

Arthur kept a close watch on Merlin. He seemed to be doing a good job of things, but what if he became dizzy from the blow that obviously landed on his head. What if he passed out and couldn’t perform his duties for the band? He had a boyfriend. If someone were using Merlin as a punching bag, why in hell didn’t his boyfriend kick their arse?

It really wasn’t Arthur’s place to interfere, but watching Merlin close his eyes and gingerly touch his bruised skin, compelled Arthur to address the matter.

When the rehearsal had ended and the performers were parting ways to spend their Sunday evenings elsewhere, he caught up to Merlin as he was ready to leave the loading dock.

“Look, Merlin,” Arthur said, getting his attention by gripping his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we need you to be healthy. We’re relying on you. We need you to be a bit more…” He wanted to say, ‘strong’ or ‘brave’ but the words seemed inappropriate. “A bit less of a girl’s petticoat, eh?”

There, he said it. And he feigned a punch to Merlin’s shoulder when the words slipped out.

Merlin laughed. “Look friend, I appreciate the consideration, but I’m fine, really, I am.”

“Listen,” Arthur pressed. “The first time I saw you, you were being jumped by a thug in the alley.”

Merlin’s eyes shifted to the floor.

“Maybe take some self-defence classes or something like that. I just don’t like to see anyone get hurt,” Arthur finished by patting Merlin on the back and sending him on his way home.

He folded his arms and leaned against the corrugated door as he watched Merlin disappear in the alley. “That went rather well,” he murmured to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur hadn’t intended to find himself in the pub at 5 o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, when most of Camelot’s residents were enjoying dinner with their families, but the thought of spending an hour at the same table with his father and Morgana proved too much for his nerves.

At least there was plenty of parking outside The Hasty Snail.

Drowning his sorrows in a pint, he didn’t notice the woman approach, until he involuntarily threw his head back in response to her nails across the nape of his neck. Whether he wanted to avoid the touch or lean into it harder, he couldn’t really say for sure.

“A bit lonely in here for a Sunday afternoon,” she said.

Arthur nodded to the empty barstool beside him.

She delicately placed her martini glass on the oak bar and smoothed her red dress, before sliding onto the leather seat.

She was young, barely old enough to be served, Arthur thought. Her scarlet nails tapped the side of her glass, signalling to the bartender that she needed another.

“Nimueh,” the bartender nodded, pouring the gin from the strainer into her glass and garnishing the drink with an olive.

Nimueh reached for her purse, but Arthur stopped the motion of her hand.

“Nimueh, allow me,” Arthur said, handing his credit card to the bartender. “I can’t let a lady pay her own way.”

“Why, Arthur Pendragon,” Nimueh said, in a voice more sultry than Arthur expected. “How very chivalrous of you.”

“Excuse me, but do I know you?” Arthur asked, his eyes squinting from the ale haze.

“I may have met you a long time ago, perhaps when you were a child,” Nimueh said.

Arthur smirked. Either someone had spiked his pint, or he was a poor judge of the woman’s youthful appearance. He’d never make it as one of those fortune tellers at the fair- the ones who used their powers of observation to bilk a shilling out of an unsuspecting citizen.

“What brings you here, Mr. Pendragon?” Nimueh asked, tracing the rim of her glass with a moist finger.

“Same as you, I suspect. Just trying to drown my sorrows a bit,” Arthur replied, feeling muzzier than one pint should have allowed.

“Two can play at drowning them,” Nimueh said. “What is troubling you today?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said, cradling his pint glass in both hands. “My band. Our roadie quit, and now we have a new guy. Something’s wrong with him. I worry that he’ll prove to be inept.” 

He felt Nimueh’s hand squeeze the back of his neck.

“I’ve got a lot riding on this tour. I don’t know if the Knights will be ready. My father... he... The opening band...” Arthur pressed his fingertips against his temples to ward of the beginnings of a dehydration-fuelled headache, made worse by the ale. “They’re going to upstage us, certainly.”

“What do you say that we head to my place and see if we can’t get you sorted out?” said Nimueh, running a sharp fingernail down Arthur’s jawline.

“How about we stay here, and get to know each other first?” Arthur asked, taking Nimueh’s hand and brushing his perpetually chapped lips across the inside of her wrist.

Nimueh laughed softly. “I hardly think the Chief of Police’s son would want to be seen in public with me.”

“I don’t see why not,” Arthur said, chewing his lip. “I’ve been seen with worse than the likes of you.”

Arthur released her hand and twirled the silver ring that adorned his index finger, thinking of his band mates and their new roadie. No wonder his father looked at them with such disdain. None of his posse looked as elegant as Nimueh, but it wasn’t Nimueh who needed his care or protection. There was nothing vulnerable about her that evoked Arthur’s empathy. 

Nimueh snatched his hand back into her own. “Let’s get out of here,” she pleaded.

“Sorry, Nimueh,” Arthur said. “I need to get home.”

***

“If spending time with your old man is an attempt to make me forget that you’re throwing your life away, you’re wasting your time,” Uther said, making Arthur worry that he wasn’t buying Arthur’s _devoted son_ routine.

Arthur had arrived home half-drunk from his outing at The Hasty Snail. Fortunately, he was able to pull the wool over his father’s eyes much more easily at twenty-four years of age than he was at eighteen.

Arthur leaned against the bathroom door frame. “What do you say to a trip to the firing range tomorrow morning?” Arthur asked, running his tongue over his teeth to make sure the minty toothpaste was the only scent his mouth emitted, lest his father discover his transgression of getting behind the wheel of his tin can of a vehicle.

Uther’s eyes met his, and for a minute, Arthur thought he was going to get called out for trying to cover up the alcohol.

“You’re on,” Uther said, clasping his son’s shoulder. “I’ll wake you for breakfast.”

That’s how Arthur ended up sitting in the passenger’s seat of the Vectra while Uther weaved through the Monday morning rush hour traffic.

Although it weighed heavily on his mind, Arthur didn’t bring up the situation with The Round Table Tour or his anger about being pitted against The Black Zigzags, a challenge that was entirely his father’s doing. Instead, he just absorbed the experience of spending time with his father, perhaps trying to figure out what made him tick, what made him the man he became. He’d play the good son, and see where it got him. Hell, maybe he’d even learn something.

The Range Officer embraced Uther and shook Arthur’s hand before showing them to their soundproof gallery.

They chose their weapons from Uther’s private collection. After Arthur listened intently to Uther’s refresher in gun safety, the men donned their ear protection and for the next hour, they took turns firing at the paper target emblazoned with the figure of some poor human who undoubtedly committed the crime of the century.

Arthur inspected his target. He hadn’t performed too badly, considering how seldom he visited the range. He compared his results with Uther’s. The perpetrator’s image had more holes than a round of Swiss cheese.

Arthur grinned. “How do you do it, father?”

“Don’t forget, I’ve had years of practice, here at the range and in taking down criminals on the streets,” Uther replied knowingly. He took the paper target from Arthur and nodded.

“That’s not what I meant,” Arthur said, licking his lips.

Uther laid the targets on the table and raised his eyebrows in question.

Arthur bit his thumbnail. “I mean, how can you muster the will to fight, to injure or even shoot and kill a criminal, or someone who has hurt others? How do you get that drive?”

“Arthur,” Uther said, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “As an officer of the law, it’s my job to protect those who are vulnerable, those who can’t protect themselves from society’s ills. It’s my job to keep society free from such filth.”

Arthur sighed.

“I see that drive in you, son,” Uther said. “It grows stronger every day. Your mother would be so very proud of you.”

It wasn’t the answer Arthur was looking for, but it was an answer that pleased Uther to give. Maybe Arthur could store it away, in case it became useful to him some day.

***

“Don’t move a muscle,” Arthur said, wringing the washcloth in a one-handed squeeze. The candles wavered with the soft summer breeze that cooled the stone walls of the castle chamber this warm night.

Merlin stood naked in the bath water up to his knees, a curl of petal-scented steam rising from the depths of the tub to encircle him.

Arthur paid little attention to Merlin’s long white limbs and his pretty cock nestled beneath a shock of black hair. Instead, he slid the warm rag across Merlin’s face, wiping off as much mud as possible before turning to plunge the cloth into the basin to rinse it again.

“Merlin, I swear, you get into more trouble simply collecting herbs than you do when battling the most demonic of sorcerers.”

Merlin yawned as Arthur wiped the slimy brown mess from his eyebrows.

“You seemingly could care less that the Camelot’s Court Sorcerer has been seen traipsing through the corridors, dripping with mud, his hair draped in sphagnum,” Arthur said, standing on tiptoe to get a closer look at the mess of weeds that coursed through Merlin’s hair, down his neck and behind his ears.

Merlin simply hummed in approval.

Rinsing again, Arthur took extra care to free the grime from the long dark lashes that fell against the pale skin of Merlin’s cheeks. With renewed warmth to the cloth, Arthur cupped Merlin’s chin in one hand and gently scrubbed clean his cheekbones and the tiny crease between his soft lower lip and his chin.

“Can I sit now?” Merlin asked. “I’m so tired, I can barely stand.”

“Go ahead,” Arthur said, sliding a hand to the small of Merlin’s back, letting him sink into the inviting bath. “You’ve got more dirt on your face than there was in the entire bog where I found you.”

He rinsed the cloth again and went to work on the sides of Merlin’s nose and all the places Arthur loved to kiss: his lips, his delicate jawline, and the cords of his throat that grew taut when Merlin braced his head against the pillows and moaned in pleasure.

Merlin dozed in the water’s embrace, his chest flushed from falling into the chilly bog, despite the summer’s heat.

“Lean your head back,” Arthur said, and Merlin obliged, allowing Arthur to pour warm water through the dark locks, working to free them from the forest debris with combing strokes of his fingers.

When he was satisfied that Merlin’s hair was clean, he let Merlin soak, while he kneaded the bath-warmed muscles of Merlin’s shoulders.

“You’re quite lucky that you have me to take care of you, Merlin. I’d hate to think of what would happen if I weren’t here,” Arthur whispered.

Merlin stirred from his repose. “But I have magic, Arthur… I could have just magicked myself clean and warm.”

Arthur woke to the ticking alarm clock. 

“He had the power,” Arthur said. “He had the power to get himself out of that mess.”


	8. Chapter 8

Tuesday morning dawned ordinary and bleak. Merlin lay awake on his belly, watching the sun try to punch through the spring shower clouds that spit rain onto the sidewalk below their flat. Trickles ran down the windows like tears, plunging to the casement when the drops became too heavy to stick to the glass.

Merlin was grateful that Mordred was motionless in his sleep. He turned his head to watch, relieved when he couldn’t detect the shallow rise of his chest as he breathed. The stillness invited Merlin to remain where he was, in the half-hour before the alarm woke Mordred for work, instead of leaping up to start his morning chores, tasks he would have readily tackled if Mordred had unexpectedly stirred awake.

He stretched out quiet and long, his bare toes brushing the edge of the mattress. He thought about what Arthur had said with regard to self-defence. He doubted he could ever confront Mordred in a battle of strength. It sent a shiver through him when he contemplated how helpless he felt against his situation which grew grimmer every day.

His mother would have been gravely disappointed with him. The feeling of embarrassment crept through him, insidiously. Perhaps it was better that she never lived to see the day. Her only wish was for his happiness, that he had something which to apply himself, something to keep his curiosity at bay so he didn’t land in trouble. But somehow in his effort to achieve just those things, things that he unmistakably wanted out of life too, he had grown weary with nothing but troubles and only sorrow to show for it. 

He was a disappointment to himself.

He had tried his best. Truly tried. But he ended up with Mordred, when he had no other choice. His mother dead, he landed penniless on the streets of Camelot with only Mordred’s piercing blue eyes in which to dive into in search of hope.

He inched his hand across the threadbare mattress and reached for the handle to the drawer of his bedside table. He held his breath, hoping to not wake Mordred. The drawer slid open, and he was ever grateful that the old wood didn’t creak enough to rouse Mordred from his sleep.

Merlin tugged on the first piece of fabric his fingers touched.

It would look like a rag to most people. The tattered blue cloth had been worn with age. He dragged it from the drawer, hoping all the while that the horizontal strands of wool wouldn’t catch on the drawer. When it was tugged free, he cradled it to his chest and inhaled the soft mother-smell from the fibres.

He drifted back to sleep with Arthur’s words in his head. 

_“The first time I saw you, you were being jumped by a thug in the alley.”_

He must seem a fool to Arthur.

_“Maybe take some self-defence classes or something like that. I just don’t like to see anyone get hurt.”_

If he only knew.

The alarm buzzed Mordred awake.

Merlin lay quietly in bed, listening to the sound of Mordred in the shower. Cabinets opened and drawers slammed as he prepared for the day.

Too much time had passed before Merlin snatched his sleep pants and T-shirt from where they were balled up on the floor.

He yanked his pants up and pulled the shirt over his head to wander into the kitchen, bare feet sliding against the worn linoleum. Rinsing the glass carafe in the sink with one hand and reaching for the coffee in the cupboard with the other, he caught a glimpse of Mordred standing in the bathroom doorway.

He was holding Merlin’s mobile.

***

Merlin strode to the train station, his trainers drenched from the puddles that dotted his path from the flat. His mind raced with the possibilities of what would happen if Mordred had figured out the encryption on his phone.

He turned the unit on, and waited to enter his password. The cheap piece of shit took a minute to power up anyway, so Merlin took advantage and jogged the remaining two blocks to the station.

He scrounged through the trash bin looking for discarded passes that may have a few points remaining. When he scored, he shoved each abandoned card into the slot, until he got a green light. He pushed his way through the turnstile.

Diving into an inbound train, he clambered onto a moulded plastic seat, all the while scrolling through the numbers on his mobile, scanning for some sign that Mordred had seen the information. His chest heaved while he contemplated what might happen if Mordred had acquired the numbers for any or all of The Knights.

Everything looked to be in place, but what did that prove? He punched his fist into the wall, which only served to bruise his knuckles.

He leaned his head back, every muscle of his body tense with the threats of unknown consequences. Rain mixed with sweat from his hair and dripped down to seep into his shirt. 

He needed this, he told himself. 

His hand absentmindedly tapped out a rhythm on the back of the vacant seat in front of him.

He needed this. He needed the terror, the chill of fear that Mordred evoked in him. 

He nodded his head in understanding.

This fear would help to make him understand what was at stake. _He_ was at stake. Even if he talked himself out of leaving Mordred a dozen times each day, he needed fear to prove himself wrong for wanting to stay.

Fear was a good thing in this case, he nodded as the train left the station. It was a terrible and uncomfortable feeling, but one that he knew he had developed in the nick of time. He had assimilated to life under Mordred’s roof, but when he feared so intensely that Mordred discovered something as simple as Merlin earning a pittance, whilst performing a job, or that he had friends, or that he had interests that lay outside the four walls of their flat, his pulse raced. 

This wasn’t right; life with Mordred was no life at all.

He tried to convince himself of just that as the train went through its regular stops. The doors opened and passengers disembarked or boarded. Merlin reviewed the litany of questions he had asked himself in the mile that passed. Had Mordred figured out that Merlin knew other people in Camelot? Or was Merlin safe to sleep with a roof over his head for another night? Was Merlin in danger?

He watched the morning passengers, absorbed in their commute. A woman in a business suit with trainers on her feet, a student with his head bobbing up and down in time with whatever tune was on his iPod, a man in khakis carrying a suitcase to or from the airport… each of them had a life where they weren’t threatened daily with physical harm. Or at least Merlin hoped so. Why should Merlin expect less for himself?

When the train’s brakes screeched to his stop, he was resolute to not worry that Mordred had seen the contacts on his mobile. He’d have to play that angle… at least when he was in the company of The Knights. No matter whether he believed he was safe or not.

***

Music pulsed down the alleyway as Merlin made his way to the warehouse. He slid beneath the corrugated door and slipped his satchel from his shoulder. His eyes lit up when Arthur nodded to him, despite the fact that he was in the midst of a vocal performance.

Merlin plunked his arse onto the folding metal table and listened to Arthur reinventing his style from one of the band’s more popular cover tunes.

_I'm within walking distance of your heart…_

_I'm just within earshot to a fresher start…_

Everything was falling into place. After one week of rehearsal with The Knights, Merlin felt like he had a good understanding of the band’s goals and he was committed to making them sound and look good to the crowd.

_I get the feeling that somebody else is thinking about me…_

_I'm this close I can touch it with my hands…_

Arthur raised an eyebrow to Merlin, which made him blush profusely when he considered the lyrics, but he wasn’t going to let anything spoil the safety and confidence he felt in this environment now. He swung his legs back and forth under the table as the band played. 

_Going up and over… over the bridge…_

_Springtide will lift me, take me across…_

_Going up and over… over the bridge_

_Springtide will lift me… take me across…_

They sounded amazing. In the past week’s practices, Merlin had stood at the ready with his notebook in hand, sketching and jotting notes about staging. For once, he simply got to listen and enjoy. 

_I'm looking down and I should be collapsing…_

_The earth underneath has long since opened up…_

_Did you see me falling?... You've seen me die in my own way…_

_When I give up you always go on…_

Gwaine winked at Merlin before leaping into the air and executing a split before he landed on two feet.

Merlin laughed and clapped his hands together in appreciation. At some point, Gwen had arrived. She dropped her bags and sat next to Merlin, her feet perched on a folding chair.

_Going up and over… over the bridge…_

_Springtide will lift me, take me across…_

_Going up and over… over the bridge_

_Springtide will lift me… take me across…_

When the song finished, he applauded along with Gwen, who also looked pleased. 

Percival had gone to his gym bag for a warm Gatorade. Leon and Elyan continued to pluck their strings, jamming using the song’s chords that had just finished up. Upon seeing Gwen, Lance ceased to play his rendition of _Chopsticks._ He leapt up from the piano bench and made his way toward the table when she and Merlin sat. Gwaine had dove into the loo and Arthur trotted toward the table to greet Gwen and Merlin.

“So, did that sound okay?” Arthur asked Merlin, since Gwen’s mouth was preoccupied with Lance.

“Fantastic,” said Merlin.

Arthur brushed the sweaty hair out of his eyes. I’m glad you’re here, Merlin. There’s something I want to discuss with you.


	9. Chapter 9

Merlin’s face fell.

He was sure he knew what Arthur was talking about. 

The mobile.

The fucking mobile!

Mordred had gotten into the data. He had called Arthur.

He had called them all.

Merlin’s chest became so tight that he let out a small cough, his inability to breathe constricting him like a straightjacket.

His mind raced with thoughts of what Mordred could have told Arthur. What Arthur could have told Mordred. What Mordred could have told anyone in the band, for that matter… and what any of them could have told Mordred. 

Merlin felt like he was going to vomit.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asked.

Merlin clutched at her, his fingers slipping along the silky leopard-print fabric that covered her arms, as Lancelot approached. 

“Never better,” Merlin managed. He was left gazing at the spot where Gwen’s arms had once been when Lancelot had tugged her away. Merlin was vaguely aware of Gwen sighing in his direction before pressing a greeting kiss to Lance’s lips.

“Merlin?” Arthur persisted.

Merlin heard Arthur’s voice, but it didn’t register above the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

He was going to be sick.

“Merlin?”

Arthur’s eyes were blue.

He had never noticed Arthur’s eyes before. Not really. They were open wide, Arthur’s mouth twisted into a questioning grin, his hands looked as if they were juggling a pair of sharp knives, although no knives were in the warehouse, as far as Merlin knew, because if they were, Merlin could completely and unequivocally understand why Arthur would want to stab him to death on the spot, or force Merlin to fall on his sword like they used to do in days of old.

“Merlin?”

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Merlin raised his hands in apology. He shook his head. “I am so very sorry. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll make it up –”

Merlin suddenly found himself blinded, his head covered with a towel of deep scarlet.

“You must be freezing,” said Arthur, his hands scrubbing the towel through Merlin drenched hair.

“Mmmpf,” Merlin said. “Now that you mention it, it is a bit chilly in here.”

“This stretch of cool weather makes it hard to keep the warehouse warm,” Arthur said. “And the bastards shut the heat off last week.”

“Well, that’s no reason to-” Merlin said, reaching for the towel that Arthur had left draped over his head.

“You must be hypothermic,” Arthur said. “Don’t you own an umbrella? For God’s sake, you’ll freeze wearing that thin shirt.”

Arthur fished through the duffel bag that Merlin had seen him bring to the practices before. He produced a plaid shirt and tossed it to Merlin.

“What’s this?” asked Merlin, still coming down from his panic of thinking Mordred had gotten hold of the band mates on his mobile. He was relieved to discover that this was obviously not the subject Arthur wished to discuss, although he doubted his good fortune where that was concerned.

“Just a spare,” Arthur said as he grabbed the shirt from Merlin and shook it out. “I can’t have our head roadie freezing to death. Where would The Knights be then?” 

Merlin felt Arthur drape the shirt over his shoulders, and he automatically reached back to shove his arm into the sleeves.

“Thanks, mate,” Merlin said. The shirt was a soft flannel. He shivered one last time as its warmth enveloped him. For a brief instant, their eyes met in a silent communication that meant nothing and everything all at once.

“Have you brought the diagrams?” Arthur asked, breaking the moment with a punch to Merlin’s shoulder. “I had an idea for the second set that I wanted to discuss with you.”

***

Arthur noticed the way Merlin flinched when he gave him a good-natured slug. He filed it away in his memory, so he could revisit the meaning behind it when he had time to think on his own.

Merlin pulled the clipboard from his satchel and reviewed the changes that Arthur wanted to incorporate for the second part of The Knights’ performance. They busily worked, while Arthur nodded and Merlin sketched out a diagram of the stage floor. The rest of the band soon finished up with their break.

The practice continued like every other practice, with Leon and Percival bickering, Gwaine and Elyan contemplating what they were going to do to each other when they got home to their flat, and Lance treating Gwen like she was more like a princess than a back-up singer.

When it was time to call it quits for the night, the amplifiers were powered down and instruments were packed away, save for Percival’s drum kit, which they risked storing overnight in the warehouse.

Arthur had finished circling the microphone cords into a loop that passed between his thumb and forefinger, winding beneath his triceps and back to his hand in a continuously smooth stretch of wire.

Merlin helped wherever he was needed, which seemed to be everywhere, eventually packing away his notebook into the satchel he carried with him to the rehearsals.

“Are you sure we can’t interest you boys in a night-cap at our place?” asked Gwaine.

Merlin pulled a squinty look at Gwaine, “You can’t be serious?”

“Maybe some other time,” Elyan nodded brightly before hauling Gwaine away.

Arthur overheard the interchange and took a step toward Merlin. “Jealous,” he said, tipping his head toward Elyan.

Merlin’s eyes flew open wide.

“I mean Elyan is jealous that you’ll steal away with Gwaine,” Arthur said.

“Oh,” Merlin gasped. “No, I really don’t see a chance of that happening.”

Arthur slumped down into a folding chair. He watched Merlin hurriedly pack his bag.

“You’ve got a boyfriend?” Arthur asked, trying to not sound hopeful.

“Oh, yes,” Merlin’s voice stuttered. “He’ll be waiting at home for me.”

“Good,” Arthur said, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s good to know.”

Merlin zipped his bag and slung it over one shoulder.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want you gallivanting off with the likes of Gwaine,” Arthur tried to lighten the mood.

“No, I’m sure he wouldn’t,” said Merlin.

“He treats you well, then?” Arthur asked, kicking himself for pressing.

“Oh! Oh!” Merlin said. “Your shirt. You’re waiting to get your shirt back and I’m just chatting away.”

Merlin moved to slide an arm from the flannel shirtsleeve, but Arthur stood and stopped him. He gripped Merlin’s bicep with a hand, stilling him.

“No, really, it’s no problem,” Arthur said, his fingers easily curling around Merlin’s arm. “You’ll just give it back to me on Wednesday.”

“Okay,” Merlin said, not once taking his eyes off Arthur’s. “Wednesday, then.”

Arthur smiled. “Unless I can convince you to let me give you a lift home.”

Merlin’s eyes shifted to the floor and all of a sudden Arthur felt badly for asking Merlin for something that he so obviously was unable to grant.

“Some other day, Merlin,” he said, giving Merlin a playful shove.

*** 

Arthur waved goodbye to his mates and climbed into the Smart Car. He drove slowly down the alley, peering down side streets where Merlin might disappear as he made his way home.

Arthur wished it had continued to downpour, so Merlin might have less reason for not accepting a ride from him.

Rush hour traffic allowed him to slowly scan the alleyways and minor roads that spilled into the main road that led out of the city. There was no sign of Merlin anywhere.

Why did he care? He asked himself.

Merlin should have elicited a reaction in Arthur that wasn’t any different from Arthur’s reaction to Gilli. He was a worker, just like Gilli. An employee who toiled for the band. Although Gilli couldn’t be given much credit for bailing out on the band in their darkest hour. But Merlin should be no different, really.

Arthur closed his eyes when a traffic light switched to red.

What was it about Merlin that he couldn’t quite figure out?

He was thin. Arthur felt that tonight when he had his hand wrapped around his arm.

“What in hell were you trying to do, Arthur?” he chided himself aloud, punching the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

Traffic began to move.

“And that’s another thing,” he said to the Smart Car’s claustrophobic interior. Besides being thin, in the time he had known Merlin, he had been jumped in the alley, had received a black eye, although that seemed to be healing well, and there _was_ that one time when Arthur saw him in the loo when he had some sort of odd mark on his hip.

Arthur turned onto the highway.

He supposed Merlin could simply be one of those people who physical harm followed around. Perhaps he was cursed by bad luck, or something like it. He was obviously clumsy enough to get banged up every now and again. 

Arthur decided to let it settle at that. Merlin was a clumsy oaf.

There was nothing Arthur could do about it.

Besides, Merlin had a boyfriend to look after him.

Arthur smiled at the thought of Merlin in bed, panting, his chest flushed from exertion, his eyes half closed with lust.

His cheekbones accentuated by moonlight.

The driver of the car behind him leaned on the horn, shaking Arthur from his thoughts.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Was he seriously thinking about Merlin in _that_ way?

He supposed he was, although the notion didn’t bother him.

He was more concerned that he’d have some explaining to do to his father when the day arrived that he brought a date home, a date that sported the same plumbing as Arthur and his father.

Perhaps Uther would be convinced that Arthur’s band mates had swayed him to join the other side.

It would give Uther another reason to regard Arthur’s band with disdain. 

Arthur resolved to cross that bridge when he came to it, and not before.

He just hoped like hell that Merlin knew what he was doing with electricity.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur arrived home exhausted. Neither the Vectra, nor Morgana’s Prius were in the garage. If they had been, he may have simply driven past the house and found a more peaceful place to spend the evening.

The rain had let up, but the clearing skies brought with them a cool breeze that shook the droplets from the newly-budded leaves. The thought of Merlin walking home whilst wrapped in Arthur’s flannel shirt brought a smile to Arthur’s face. He hoped Merlin’s boyfriend wouldn’t give him too much grief about it.

Arthur wiped his feet on the mat and tossed his gear bag into the foyer closet.

He ran water from the tap into a mug and set it in the microwave to boil. Without bothering to shut the door to the loo, he took a piss and returned to the microwave’s beeping.

He spooned a couple scoops of hot chocolate mix into the cup and stirred it until the liquid turned a lovely milky brown. Kicking off his trainers, he picked up his mail from the kitchen counter and carried his cocoa to the den. He lay back on the plush sectional, and thumbed through the correspondence whilst sipping the chocolatey drink.

When he was satisfied that he had perused enough credit card offers and educational opportunities, interspersed with Police Academy paraphernalia that his father had undoubtedly snuck into his stack, he set his cocoa onto the nearby coffee table and closed his eyes.

Before long, he was sound asleep.

“Arthur?” the voice sang.

Arthur shifted his legs and sunk deeper into the plush.

“Arthur, wake up,” the voice softly called.

Arthur was vaguely aware of a warm hand rubbing smooth circles across his chest. The sectional, where he was accustomed to napping occasionally, had somehow grown more pillows... many more pillows.

“Arthur?”

Arthur barely cracked his eyes open and tugged a pillow across the back of his head, pulling it against his ears to block out the sound, not wanting to disturb his dream of Merlin.

_They were on a quest, just the two of them, and Merlin had somehow wandered through a meadow of flowers that bloomed with sex pollen. This miraculous occurrence happened but only once each year and Arthur was keen on taking his opportunity with it._

“Arthur?”

Merlin crawled onto the regally-appointed bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

“Merlin?” Arthur questioned.

“You were expecting someone else?” Merlin asked, firmly pulling the pillow out of Arthur’s hands.

“Come on,” Arthur said, circling Merlin’s narrow wrist with a sword-calloused hand. “Come back to bed.”

Arthur did his best to add a whine to his voice, knowing that Merlin couldn’t resist. He watched him think, admiring the way the sunlight made his naked skin shimmer against the crimson bed curtains. Arthur pushed his bottom lip out ever so slightly, in a movement that he was certain was not befitting of a king.

“Please,” Arthur whispered. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh, you,” said Merlin, feigning exasperation, his cheeks flushed pink. He relented, and slid beneath the sheets again, his chilled body pressing against Arthur’s bed-warm skin. “How could I ever deny you?”

Arthur sighed happily as their legs tangled together.

“But you’ve got a full day of duties to attend to,” Merlin laughed, his breath in Arthur’s ear. “So we’d better make it fast.”

Arthur awoke to the sound of the garage door.

He stumbled to his feet before he even realized his hand was shoved down his pants. Closing the loo door behind him before he found out whether it was Morgana or his father who had arrived home, he brought himself off wondering why the _dreamed_ Merlin was so confident, while _his_ Merlin was a ball of raw nerves.

*** 

Merlin slouched into his seat as the train left the station. It was only a few stops to the flat, so he needed to maximize his time if he were to re-live the events of the afternoon. The panic he felt when he thought Mordred might have contacted Arthur gave way to the utter joy of Arthur’s hands on his head, towelling his hair, Arthur gripping his arm, Arthur liking his ideas for the lighting and staging. Arthur wanting to discuss these things with Merlin!

The punch in the arm, he could have done without. Merlin rubbed the spot where Arthur’s fist had struck. Somewhere in his head he calculated how much therapy he’d need to set him right again, if he ever was to have a happy ending.

But none of that mattered now, not when he had the best thing of all, a piece of Arthur himself… almost.

He pulled the flannel shirt tight around him, his hands brushing over the soft fabric. He popped the collar and inhaled. This is what it smelled like, to have someone who cared.

When he exited the train at his stop, he gathered his satchel of electrical notes and stepped onto the sidewalk. The sun had finally burst through the clouds and the puddles on the ground were drying in the afternoon breeze. With a tune in his head, he strode the few blocks to his flat, a plan germinating about how best to deal with his recently acquired garment.

He’d have to sneak the shirt into the laundry. He couldn’t very well return it unlaundered, not after Arthur’s generosity. As much as he’d like to hide it away and keep it forever for himself, what kind of sick bastard would do such a thing? No, he’d wait until Mordred wasn’t paying attention and then he’d slip it into the washing and take care of it himself.

Merlin took the steps two by two, barely winded when he reached the fourth floor.

His mouth fell open when he entered the flat and found Mordred sitting in front of the fireplace.

“Hello, Merlin,” Mordred said without rising.

Merlin never dreamed that Mordred would have come home early from the office.

“Oh, hello, I didn’t think you’d be home,” Merlin said, slipping his satchel from his shoulder. “I’d have started dinner already.”

“Where have you been?” Mordred asked, glancing his way.

“Nowhere, really,” said Merlin, struggling for an answer. “Just out for a walk.”

“You’re hiding something from me?” Mordred asked.

“No,” Merlin choked. “Not at all. Why would you think that?”

Mordred rose and walked the few steps to the kitchen where Merlin stood.

“You didn’t want me to see this,” said Mordred, sliding his fingers down the front of the flannel shirt.

Merlin bit his bottom lip and took a step backward, the counter pressing into the small of his back.

“You’re a fucking whore, Merlin,” Mordred said. “It’s written right across your face.”

Merlin swallowed hard, wishing Mordred would disappear.

“You’re not worth it, Merlin. Not worth my time. Or anyone else’s.”

Merlin lowered his eyes to the floor.

He didn’t move until he heard the door slam and Mordred’s footsteps descending the stairs.

He sank into a kitchen chair and pulled the shirt off, dropping it on the dirty linoleum.

He almost didn’t answer his mobile when it buzzed with an incoming call.

“Arthur?” he tried to sound natural, although his demeanour was blown to shit.

“Hey, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, fine mate,” Merlin lied.

“You just sound odd, must be the connection,” Arthur said. “Anyway, I just learned that we’ll be able to rehearse at the Avalon Theatre on Wednesday. I’m calling everyone to let them know, so we’ll meet there instead of the warehouse. You’ll be able to make it?”

“Of course,” Merlin said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Alright then,” Arthur said. “I’ll see you there.”

***

Arthur had to remove his aviators to fully appreciate the cavernous interior of the Avalon Theatre. Although he had been to countless shows at the venue, this was his first visit in anticipation of headlining a show in the massive auditorium. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he took in the atmosphere.

Onstage, Percival and Leon looked to nearly be done setting up the drum kit. Gwaine chatted on his mobile from the front row. Elyan sat behind him and tried to braid his hair into cornrows while Gwaine did his best to ignore his efforts.

A closer look at the theatre’s dark interior revealed that Lance and Gwen were snogging in the balcony. Overhead, the sounds of instructions being barked out resonated over the empty seats.

If he listened closely, Arthur recognised one of the voices as belonging to Merlin.

“Hello, up there,” he called into the rafters above the audience.

“How’s it going, Arthur?” Merlin replied.

A woman’s voice interjected, “You need to have the red ones on the edges. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Go easy on him, darling. You don’t want to wear him out before he finishes.”

Arthur would know Cenred’s voice anywhere.

The shaggy-haired frontman of the duo sat in the back row with his head tilted toward the ceiling. Arthur looked up, but couldn’t see a thing. Perhaps he would when his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“I’m not going to let him screw it up for us, dear. Show a little faith,” the woman retorted.

Morgause.

What the hell were they doing here?

“I think it’s all set now,” Merlin shouted.

“It had better be,” Morgause said.

Arthur could hear them, but it was difficult to make out their figures in the catwalk above.

Eventually, they must have gotten things sorted because Morgause emerged from the darkness, her skin-tight dress leaving little to the imagination.

Merlin trotted down the aisle after her.

Arthur rolled his eyes. It was bad enough that The Black Zigzags were opening for The Knights, did they have to be here on the same day to set up their lighting?

“Why are you helping them?” Arthur asked Merlin, low enough that Morgause couldn’t overhear.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Merlin nodded. “But it’s better if I help them a bit now. It’ll keep them out of our hair when we’re setting our lighting and it’ll give them fewer opportunities to mess our lights up.”

Arthur reluctantly agreed.

“Just remember, they’re not paying you. You don’t have to listen to them,” Arthur said.

“Oh, they’re no bother,” Merlin waved toward the couple. “I’ve worked with worse.”

Arthur smiled. “Let’s go see what the rest of The Knights are doing.”

He and Merlin headed for the stage.


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin strode toward the stage with Arthur. The auditorium was filled with the sounds of The Knights as they tuned their instruments and prepared for their first onsite rehearsal. With the kickoff date of The Round Table Tour swiftly approaching, Merlin only had a couple opportunities to set the lighting while the band was actually onstage, so he had to make good use of his time.

He jumped onto the stage and tore some lengths from the roll of tape that braceleted his wrist. Working around the guys, he affixed the tape to the places the musicians may find themselves during their performance. 

He wasn’t too worried about Morgause or meeting her demands. He had dealt with divas like her in High School. He figured that if he bent to her will, she’d be charmed by his boyish good looks and willingness to help her. Girls were often like that when they got around Merlin. They usually wanted one thing and it had nothing to do with increasing amperes. 

Morgause had been none too pleased about waiting until The Knights were finished with their light check before The Black Zigzags began their own, but Merlin appeased her by taping some of her and Cenred’s marks for them and switching out the coloured cells on the fixtures. After doing so much planning preliminarily, Merlin was excited to finally be at the venue.

Arthur took the stage and tapped on a microphone.

After making a few herp derp faces when staring into the glare of lights, he uttered the obligatory, “Is this on? Testing. One. Two.” 

Merlin, who had been applying tape at Arthur’s feet, stood up and rolled his eyes.

“What?” Arthur shrugged.

“Mate, that is so unprofessional,” Merlin laughed before continuing with his coil of tape.

Arthur glared at the microphone. “Really?!!! Really?!!! Really?!!! Merlin???? Merlin???? Merlin????” echoed throughout the theatre.

Merlin threw his head back and laughed. “Tell you what,” he said. “Don’t quit your day job.”

Merlin trotted back to the control booth from which the audio effects were managed. The tiny room, built of concrete blocks, wasn’t bigger than an elevator. A wooden stool that tipped precariously on its uneven legs stood in front of the board, the maze-like device where the sounds and lights came together in a tangle of wires and toggles. Merlin quickly made a few adjustments so that every breath Arthur took near the microphone didn’t sound like a cyclone.

In the corner of the booth, a spiral staircase led to the catwalk. Merlin flipped a few of the toggles on the board and climbed the narrow metal stairs to the perch high above the theatre seats.

From here, he could see where the lights hit the performers and he could make notes about how to alter the intensity and direction of the beams.

The band started with one of their favourite cover tunes for the first song in their practice. Merlin let his legs dangle above the auditorium seats whilst he made notes about the lighting. This would allow him to make the adjustments efficiently when he descended to the booth.

The Knights sounded good, considering this was the first time they were on stage at the Avalon. Merlin shoved his mechanical pencil into his mouth and swung his legs back and forth to the rhythm. He was more surprised than anyone when the lights went out.

***

Merlin grabbed hold of the steel beam and steadied himself. On the stage, people were swearing and stumbling about. Any second now and the emergency lights will kick on, Merlin thought.

Remembering the lighter he kept in his pocket, he fished for it and flicked it to life.

The light was just bright enough to allow him to see the glinting top of the spiral staircase. He carefully gripped the metal spiderweb of beams with one hand and held the lighter aloft in the other. By the time he reached the first step, the emergency generators had powered up. The theatre was lit in a soft amber glow.

The commotion on the stage had diminished when Merlin jogged down the centre aisle to where the band had congregated.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Arthur was saying to the band. “Everyone just needs to stay calm.”

Arthur punched a couple numbers into his mobile and held the phone to his ear. He raised an eyebrow to Merlin. “Merlin, do you have any idea what just happened here?”

“I was up on the catwalk, when everything went out. I’ll go check the electrical panels,” Merlin said as he walked to the panels which were stage left, out of the audience’s line of sight.

The members of The Knights had put down their instruments and were milling about.

Merlin was vaguely aware of Arthur leaving an angry message for his father about the antiquated lighting at the Avalon. 

“Need any help?” Gwaine appeared over Merlin’s shoulder as he checked the electrical panels.

“Thanks Gwaine,” Merlin said, scanning the connections. “But I don’t see anything wrong here.”

Merlin slid the panel doors closed. He and Gwaine walked onto the stage when Gwen pushed open an emergency exit door and looked outside. The sound of distant sirens could be heard wailing. “It’s no use,” Gwen said. “The whole street is out.”

“So it is,” Lancelot said, peering out the door beside Gwen.

People had congregated in the street in what appeared to be a mass power outage. A man in a leather jacket said he heard an explosion before the lights went out.

“A transformer could have been knocked out,” Merlin said.

“Well, there’s no sense in trying to get anything done with no electricity,” Arthur said. “And from the sound of things outside, it’s not just the Avalon that was knocked out. We should pack up as best we can and meet back here tomorrow.”

Amid the groans of disappointment, the band mates began to pack away their guitars and equipment.

Merlin joined Arthur on the stage and they worked to ensure everything was turned off, packed up, and wrapped up so they could get a fresh start the following day.

“Oh, I’ve got your shirt for you,” Merlin said while they were finishing up. He picked up his satchel from the front row seat where he had left it. Just then, Arthur’s mobile rang.

Merlin could only catch stray fragments of the conversation. It was mostly Arthur listening and acknowledging what the caller had said.

“That was my father,” Arthur said, when he was through. “You take the train home normally, right?”

Merlin nodded, wondering what Arthur was getting at.

“He says there was a fire in a manhole. This whole part of the city is out of power, even the trains aren’t running.”

“No?” Merlin asked, handing over the shirt.

“That’s right Merlin,” Arthur said. “I’m giving you a lift home tonight, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

***

Arthur couldn’t wait to see Merlin’s reaction to that.

As he suspected, Merlin shuffled his feet and tried to protest that he didn’t need or want a ride home, his lashes fluttering shut and his eyes shyly shifting toward the floor. Arthur quickly put to rest any idea Merlin may have had about walking home.

“The city is full of crazy people,” Arthur insisted, remembering what his father had said about protecting those who were vulnerable.

“Yes,” Merlin said. “And I’m only slightly concerned that you are one of them.”

Arthur laughed because he figured it would put Merlin at ease, although he already decided that he would happily provide Merlin with protection tonight.

He led Merlin into the parking lot behind the Avalon. The streets still had a fair number of people in them, but no lights, other than the emergency lighting, seemed to be working anywhere near the theatre.

“It’ll be a little cramped,” Arthur said as he opened the boot of the Smart Car for them both to toss their bags into.

“I can’t believe I’m going to go for a ride in a miniature car,” Merlin chuckled.

“It’s good for the environment,” Arthur assured him as he clipped his seatbelt into place.

When Merlin was buckled, Arthur guided the car onto the dim streets.

“You know,” Arthur started. “When the lights went out, my first thought was that Morgause and Cenred were responsible.”

“Why would they want the lights out?” Merlin asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Arthur as he carefully crossed an intersection unaided by the familiar lights that normally told him whether to stop or go. “I don’t trust them.”

“Take a right up here,” Merlin indicated the street Arthur needed to take.

“I wish you didn’t feel so obligated to help them today,” Arthur said, turning onto the busy street. Both he and Merlin could make out the lights that seemed to be operational only a half mile away.

“Looks like the lights are on in your neighbourhood,” Arthur said,

“Mmmm,” Merlin agreed. “A little kindness can go a long way.”

“What?”

“To soothe the angry Morgause,” Merlin said.

“I suppose so,” Arthur said.

“Right here is fine,” Merlin said.

Arthur pulled up in front of Merlin’s tenement building. They were in a neighbourhood Arthur seldom had reason to visit. To say it was run-down, was to pay it a compliment.

“This is where you live?” Arthur asked. He tried to catch himself from sounding pretentious, and he worried that he was too late, but Merlin smoothed things over.

“This is the place, all the way up on the fourth floor. Thanks for the ride, mate.”

“Goodnight,” Arthur said as he watched Merlin exit the Smart Car and remove his satchel from the boot. He hummed to himself as he drove home, feeling like he knew a little more about Merlin than he did when the day began.


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur tossed his keys into the ceramic bowl on the dining room table. The motion made the hanging lamps above the sideboard illuminate before he set foot into the room, a trick he learned as a small child. He heard the muted tones of Morgana’s voice as she spoke on the phone.

He stepped into the den to let her know he was home.

“Arthur, thank goodness you’re alright,” Morgana said, crossing the room in three quick strides and embracing him.

“I’m fine, Morgana. Why wouldn’t I be?” Arthur asked, picking up his mail from the counter.

“Yes, he’s home now,” Morgana said into the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Was that my father?” Arthur asked, shuffling the letters and junk mail, along with the ever-present Police Academy propaganda. “No wonder he’s an expert at keeping tabs on me if he calls you to find out my whereabouts before he calls me.”

“No, Arthur. It was Gwen. And there’s no need to talk disrespectfully about your father,” Morgana said, snatching the mail from Arthur’s hand. “She told me what happened at the theatre. She and Lance still have no power.”

“Gwen?” Arthur asked. “Why was she calling you?”

“Oh, she didn’t call me,” Morgana stepped away. “I called her.” 

Arthur grabbed his mail back from her and laughed. “I didn’t think someone of your calibre would associate with a back-up singer,” he chided. “What’s the matter? Velvet Rocks has you slumming it, now?”

Morgana faced him. “I’ll have you know that my position at Velvet Rocks allows me to meet new people all the time. Talented people who might be looking for a favour.”

“Come on, Morgana,” Arthur was becoming more perturbed. “What kind of favour could you possibly grant someone?”

“Well, since you ask,” Morgana said. “I ran into an old friend who is looking for work as a background singer and I gave her name to Gwen.”

“And Gwen offered to take her under her wing, no doubt,” Arthur said.

“That’s right,” Morgana’s steeled her eyes on Arthur’s. “She may even sing back-up on The Round Table Tour, if things work out.”

“That’s impossible,” said Arthur. “The songs have been rehearsed for months, we’re not adding somebody new. Who is it? Someone I know?”

“Nimueh,” said Morgana.

“Nimueh… I know the name,” Arthur said. “Oh, yes, I met her at The Hasty Snail a week ago. Was she courting me then, for a position in the band?”

“You forget too easily, Arthur. Nimueh works for Glein Midwifery,” Morgana said. “That’s why you remember her name. Since you two go way back, I thought she’d deserve a spot singing back-up.”

“Over my dead body,” Arthur shouted, his fists clenched.

“That could be arranged,” smirked Morgana.

Arthur paced back and forth in front of Morgana. He realized that this was just the reaction she hoped to get from him with this news.

“Gwen won’t allow it. I’ll make sure Gwen won’t allow it,” Arthur said.

“She told me she’d try to find a place to work Nimueh in. Maybe invite her to some of your rehearsals,” Morgana said.

“You’re doing this on purpose, Morgana. You’re trying to sabotage the tour,” Arthur seethed. He pulled out a dining room chair and sat in it, kneading his temples with the pads of his fingers.

“Your Father won’t like it, of course,” Morgana said, brushing her fingers through the hair that curled at the nape of his neck.

“Why would you suggest her to Gwen? Father will be furious with me if he thinks I had anything to do with Nimueh joining the band,” Arthur said.

“He hates so many things in life because of what happened to Igraine,” Morgana said, her voice like a soothing poison that spelled out the things Arthur already knew were deadly. Things he was always afraid to touch. “That’s why he won’t allow so much as an extension cord in this house.”

“You have no right to talk about my mother like that, Morgana,” Arthur said, he shoved his chair out from the table and rose to his feet. “It’s obvious to me that you’ve won my father’s favour, but I won’t listen to you dragging my mother into this.”

He threw his hands in the air and retired to his room, slamming the door behind him.

*** 

Arthur pulled off his clothes and crawled into bed.

He knew he should have a word with his father about Nimueh, lest she show up in the band without any advanced notice. He worried that Uther would find Nimueh’s appearance unsettling. Ever since he was a small child, Arthur believed that any reference to his mother’s death would prove to be a difficult subject to broach with his father. Uther had spent his lifetime doting on Arthur. He always wanted what was best for him. While he never outwardly blamed Arthur for Igraine’s death, Arthur knew that he couldn’t help but look at Arthur with sceptical eyes. Although he strove to make up for the tragic loss by being the most law-abiding son he could possibly be, Arthur always seemed to fall short. His interest in music was the straw that broke the camel’s back in a long line of disappointments he provided for his father.

He drew his blanket up to his neck, grateful for the fire and power outage, as it would likely keep Uther busy until the wee hours of the morning, if not later. It would keep Arthur safe from any conversation about his mother.

Arthur stretched out and tried to relax. He was so angry at Morgana, he didn’t think he’d be able to get to sleep.

Leave it to her, to think of a way to add more stress to Arthur’s life. He had worked toward this moment of success, The Round Table Tour, for years. He had assembled the right mix of talent and the right mix of camaraderie. Most people didn’t reach such a level of intimacy, combined with professionalism, in their lifetime, let alone before they reached their thirties.

And now Glein Midwifery Services was poised to enter his life again to ruin his father’s faith in him.

He listened to the distant sirens, hoping the city would be back in order by morning, hoping the rehearsal at the Avalon would go according to plan, and hoping Merlin might let him give him a ride home again.

Now that he had given him a ride once, it shouldn’t be a big deal.

Still, he wondered why Merlin was so evasive.

Maybe Merlin was embarrassed that he lived in a deteriorated building in a bad part of town. Maybe he didn’t want his elusive boyfriend to catch a glimpse of Arthur dropping him off. Arthur supposed that Merlin’s boyfriend might be the jealous type. Probably with good reason. Merlin was adorable in that emo sort of way. He had no qualms about wearing eyeliner and Arthur could swear he had lip gloss smoothed over his plush pink lips on most days.

What would it be like, for Arthur to climb those 4 flights of stairs…

“I’ve got you now, Merlin,” Arthur hauled Merlin into his chambers, brushing the snow from his tattered pigskin jacket, the white clumps of flakes falling to the floor.

Merlin’s teeth chattered.

“Stay here by the fire,” Arthur commanded. “And pull those wet clothes off. You’ll catch your death in them.”

Merlin moved to follow Arthur’s request. 

“It was noble of you to deliver the medicine to the lower town,” Arthur spoke while he worked to sort through his wardrobe to find Merlin a thick woolen shift. “But you worried me sick when you were gone so long in the storm.”

Merlin had removed his jacket and he struggled to toe off his boots in front of the fire. He shoved his breeches off and they stood where they were, frozen stiff.

“Here, this will help warm you,” Arthur said, slinging the soft garment over one arm.

Merlin’s lower lip trembled when Arthur pried his fingers loose from the chair back and drew his wet tunic off. He took the nightshirt and bunched the fabric between his hands and slipped the neckline over Merlin’s head. 

Merlin shivered while Arthur helped Merlin’s arms through the sleeves and let the garment fall into place, covering his nakedness. 

“Come on then,” Arthur said, touching Merlin’s elbow and guiding him to the bed. “I know how to best warm you up.”

*** 

Merlin crept up the stairs and slotted his key into the lock. He quietly pushed the door open, praying that the hinges wouldn’t squeak.

To his great relief, Mordred was asleep.

He didn’t dare disrupt the flat by turning on more lights, so he slipped into the kitchen where Mordred had left the light above the stove turned on. Carefully, he lowered his keys onto the kitchen counter.

Running around at the rehearsal had made him hungry, and Mordred’s sleeping state gave him permission to eat whatever he wanted, a freedom he rarely got to experience. He didn’t dare try to heat anything up, so he settled for some crackers smeared with peanut butter, washing them down with a glass of cold water that he quietly ran from the tap.

Getting a ride home from Arthur had been thrilling, he thought, as he took careful nibbles from a cracker. Never could he have predicted how this evening would have turned out when he left the flat early in the day. He had been nervously anticipating that Arthur would offer him a ride again, as he did nearly every night, but the power failure contributed greatly to his rationale that it would be alright to accept a ride. It made it right in his eyes, and right in Arthur’s eyes. He shuddered to think of what would have happened if he had to walk home. He’d have arrived home much later, and Mordred’s suspicions about where Merlin had wandered would be roused if he had been waiting up.

Merlin popped another cracker into his mouth before putting the package away.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

Not only had Arthur given him free reign to set the stage and lighting, just as he envisioned it, but he confided in him about his distrust of Morgause and Cenred.

It seemed like it had been an awful long time since anyone had relied on Merlin’s advice or his judgement. It made Merlin swell with pride.

As he moved through the flat, cleaning up his mess in the sink, and leaving his trainers by the door, he was careful to temper his expression. He wouldn’t want Mordred to appear in the bedroom doorway wondering why he wore a happy grin.

He had to stop himself from singing out while he brushed his teeth in front of the sink and used a warm soapy washcloth to remove his eyeliner.

In the darkened bedroom, he listened to Mordred’s shallow breathing. He stripped off his clothes, as Mordred required, and slipped into bed, careful not to disturb him.

He rolled to his side and edged his way as close to the edge of the mattress as he could get without falling out of bed. Sliding his hands beneath his pillow, he resolved to only have Arthur dreams tonight.


	13. Chapter 13

“You seem tense today,” Merlin said, looking up from the control panel where dozens of wires formed what looked like a giant bird’s nest to Arthur.

“Is it that obvious?” Arthur asked, rubbing his hands together to get them warm within the chilly room. The concrete block construction did little to encourage the heat to seep in.

Through the glass window at the front of the booth, he watched Leon soundlessly tuning his bass. The other musicians all seemed to be engaged in animated discussions, of which Arthur and Merlin couldn’t hear a single word.

Each of the instruments needed their sound configured from the booth and Merlin had worked most of the afternoon getting a baseline for where they should begin on The Round Table Tour’s first stop. It would only save time for their all-important first live performance.

“Worried about a power failure on opening night?” asked Merlin, removing the pair of headphones from his ears and letting them rest across the back of his neck.

“If only,” Arthur said. “That would be just my luck. Bad enough that I have to worry about The Black Zigzags stealing our thunder, but now I’ve got vocalist issues.”

“Gwaine trying to take your job away again?” Merlin asked, stripping the black rubber coating from a wire with a pair of needle-nose pliers.

Arthur laughed. “I don’t think I have to worry about that. Try, as he may.”

Merlin dropped to the floor and crawled beneath the control board, “Pass me that screwdriver, would you?”

Arthur looked around the top of the panel and found it. He passed it under the panel into Merlin’s waiting hand.

“Thanks,” Merlin said. “Is it Morgause? She can be very demanding. It’s no wonder The Black Zigzags have had some success. She has that air of entitlement about her. I don’t dare say _no_ to anything she asks, lest she turn me into a frog.”

Arthur squatted down to where Merlin was busily splicing wires together. “It’s Gwen,” he said.

“She wants to sing lead?” asked Merlin.

“No, she has a friend for whom she’s going to try to do a favour. Nimueh is her name and if I let her sing back-up, there’s going to be a whole lot of trouble,” Arthur said.

“Oh, _that_ kind of trouble,” Merlin remarked.

“What do you mean _that_ kind of trouble?” Arthur asked, making air quotes.

“Ex-girlfriend trouble,” said Merlin, before biting down on a length of wire to free both his hands for other manipulations of the electronics that controlled the sound effects.

“No, not ex-girlfriend trouble,” Arthur said, shoving Merlin’s shoulder playfully.

“Hey, hey!” Merlin shouted. “Not while I’m working. You wouldn’t want me to get electrocuted. Then where would the tour be? You’d go from one roadie to zero roadies in the blink of an eye.”

“Well, the way you’re patching wires together and sticking things that conduct electricity in your mouth, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long,” Arthur said, getting to his feet.

Merlin crawled backwards from beneath the control panel and clambered up the rungs of the rickety stool until he was standing face to face with Arthur.

Arthur could feel Merlin’s breath on his face. And not for the first time, he noticed the crinkly lines that framed Merlin’s eyes when he smiled. Suddenly, it seemed like the room had gotten a lot smaller.

Merlin moved first. His brilliant blue eyes shifted from Arthur to the floor, or really to Arthur’s chest which must have blocked Merlin’s view of the floor because they were standing so close.

“Well, I’d better get going so you can do my sound check,” Arthur said.

“Right,” Merlin said, grabbing at the headphones to replace them on his ears.

Arthur reached for the left earpiece with his right hand and pulled it away from Merlin’s ear.

“And power failure or not, it’s no bother for me to give you a ride home tonight,” Arthur let the earpiece spring into place on Merlin’s ear and quickly left the booth so he didn’t have to hear Merlin protests.

***

The rehearsal went well. Arthur was relieved that Morgause only made a minimum of demands on Merlin and on his band mates. She seemed more keen on bossing Cenred around, truth be told. Arthur couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

Morgause had achieved a level of notoriety as being the brains of their operation, and Arthur now had been given a first-hand glimpse of her in action. She would have been a formidable opponent in a boardroom. Too bad she took up gigging instead.

When the last of the instruments were packed away and Arthur had said his final goodbyes for the night, Arthur was sorry to see Gwen beckoning him with a curl of her index finger. He walked over to her, his fingers fiddling with the microphone cord he had wrapped around his left arm.

“Did Morgana talk to you?” Gwen asked, out of earshot from the rest of the musicians.

“About what?” Arthur tried to stay cool.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Arthur. She’s practically your sister,” Gwen said, sounding very pissed off. “She has a friend… Nimueh… that she wants me to get into the band, singing back-up.”

“Gwen? Are you almost ready?” Lance called from the set of exit doors behind the stage. They were not your ordinary metal theatre doors, but ones through which a semi-truck could be driven if necessary. It wasn’t necessary at the moment, because Percival’s drum kit had already been loaded into Lance’s mini-van, where it awaited delivery to the warehouse in the morning with the keyboards. Gwen held up a finger to indicate to Lance that she needed another minute. He nodded and disappeared through the doors.

“I don’t know, Arthur. Morgana could open a lot of doors for me,” Gwen said hesitantly.

Arthur bit his lip, trying to stay calm, trying to hear Gwen out.

“I wouldn’t want to go behind your back on this,” Gwen said, looking away. “What do you think I should do?”

“I’ve always given you free reign to do as you see fit with the back-ups, Gwen. You know that. I trust you’ll make the right decision on your own,” Arthur said.

Gwen slid her arms around him and gave him an awkward hug.

“You know my father has had issues with Nimueh’s other occupation,” Arthur said. “I hope he can put those issues behind him. In fact, it’s high time he did.”

“Thanks, Arthur,” Gwen said. “I appreciate your confidence in me. I wouldn’t do anything to upset you or your father… not intentionally. That’s why I asked you first.”

Arthur nodded. “Maybe it’s up to me to make the first move toward a resolution, to set an example for him, so he might follow.”

“That’s a noble thought, Arthur. I wish you every success with it,” Gwen said.

“Are we ready to go?” Merlin shouted from the booth door.

“Kill it,” Arthur yelled back.

Merlin killed the house lights and the theatre was plunged into darkness.

After the theatre was locked up, Arthur and Merlin tossed their bags into the boot of the Smart Car and headed toward Merlin’s flat.

“Thanks for that,” Arthur said, when they turned onto the main street that bisected the city.

“For what?” Merlin asked.

“You knew I was dreading talking to Gwen, and you helped put me out of my misery sooner than later,” Arthur said.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I did,” Merlin grinned. “Just trying to help.”

Arthur smiled. He wove his way through the city traffic and dropped Merlin off in front of his tenement like he had done the night before. Diligently waiting until Merlin got inside the street level entrance, Arthur pulled away from the curb.

He had nearly gotten halfway home when his mobile rang.

“Arthur, it’s me, Merlin,” the speakerphone announced into the Smart Car.

“Merlin?” Arthur took the phone off speaker and held the device to his ear.

“I’m wondering if you might be able to help me out,” Merlin said nervously. “I’ve been locked out.”

“Hold on, Merlin,” Arthur replied. “I’ll be right there.”

***

Arthur banged a U-Turn in the middle of the road, earning himself a few angry horns and at least one driver telling him that he was number one. 

He sped back to Merlin’s flat wondering what Merlin had meant by being locked out. He checked his hair in the rearview before flooring it to his destination. Maybe Merlin just forgot his key and needed to call the building manager. 

No, he would have used his mobile to call.

Maybe he got evicted?

That would be a sorry break for him. Arthur knew firsthand what Merlin made for pay as a roadie and it would be barely enough to scrape by with several roommates, let alone with one so-called boyfriend. And where was _he_ in all of this?

“Fucking bloody hell, Arthur! What are you getting into?” he asked himself, hoping like mad that he wouldn’t be coming to the rescue of his crush and his boyfriend.

Arthur was relieved when saw Merlin standing on the curb where he had left him fifteen minutes earlier… alone. He looked dejected, so Arthur decided he would try to make the best of the situation, even before the Smart Car came to a stop.

He rolled down the passenger’s side window.

“Hello, little boy,” he grinned. “Would you like some candy?”

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh, although he looked to be on the verge of tears.

“Can I really get in?” Merlin asked tentatively.

“Of course, Merlin,” Arthur said, popping the boot open so he could stow his satchel.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, sliding into the seat and fastening his seat belt. “I couldn’t think of anyone else to call.” 

“Don’t worry,” Arthur said, glancing his way. Merlin sat with his arms folded across his chest, the hood of the ratty jumper he had worn to the rehearsal pulled over his head that rested on the Smart Car’s window. “That’s what friends are for. Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

Arthur pulled away from the curb. “Only if you want to,” he added.

Merlin thought for a while. Arthur bit his lip, determined not to put any undue pressure on the poor kid.

“I guess you could say we had a fight,” Merlin finally said. “But I’m not really sure.”

Arthur took advantage of a traffic light to lean over and take a good look at Merlin’s face. Merlin cringed uncomfortably. “Well, you look none worse for wear,” Arthur said.

Merlin huffed out a laugh. “It wasn’t _that_ kind of fight.”

“Oh, I see,” Arthur said. “It was one of those silent fights. Those can be even worse.”

“It wasn’t really a fight at all,” Merlin said. “He changed the lock on the door while I was at rehearsal.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. The truth of the matter seemed more tragic when Merlin explained it.

“I’m so sorry, Merlin,” he said.

Merlin slumped lower in his seat.

“Don’t worry,” Arthur said. “We’ll get you sorted out.”

He wanted to reach over to pat Merlin’s arm, to somehow reassure him that everything would be alright. Instead, he took the corner and pulled onto his block, grateful that no lights were shining from the windows of the Pendragon house. An empty house would make things easier to explain.

“Where are we going?” Merlin asked, as if just realizing the car had been moving.

“My house,” Arthur said. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Thanks, Arthur,” Merlin said. “That’ll be fine.”


	14. Chapter 14

Arthur pulled the Smart Car into the garage and put it in park. The overhead lighting brightened from a dim amber to a soft lemon glow when he stepped onto the garage floor. He popped the boot and grabbed his duffle bag, while Merlin shouldered the satchel which held his notes.

“It doesn’t look like my father and Morgana are home,” Arthur said, holding open the door that led from the garage into the small hallway next to the kitchen.

“They won’t mind me being here, will they?” Merlin asked.

Arthur let out a laugh. “God, no. They have no say in the matter, besides.”

“Just asking. Some parents would have fits if their kid brought a vagabond into their home. Your father seems quite strict from what I’ve heard,” Merlin said.

“Well, he may be my father, but I’m no longer a child,” Arthur said. “And you’re no vagabond!”

Merlin smiled for the first time since Arthur had picked him up from the curb.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, suddenly quiet. “If you need some privacy to make a phone call… or just… if you need to be alone for a moment… I’ll understand.”

Merlin sighed. “I think that can wait until tomorrow. That is, if you’ll allow me to spend the night here?”

“Of course,” Arthur nodded.

“I really appreciate it, mate,” Merlin said, clenching Arthur’s arm affectionately.

“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked as they walked through the kitchen, the house growing more illuminated with every step he took.

“Mmm, not really,” said Merlin. “I don’t think I can eat anything just now.”

“Let’s drop this stuff off in my room and we can grab a bite later if we want,” Arthur said.

“These lights are really funky,” Merlin said, following Arthur up the stairs and to the end of the hall, each light turning on in succession to guide their way.

“Yeah, I suppose they’re weird,” Arthur said, tossing his things onto the bed. “I don’t even think about them anymore.”

Merlin dropped his satchel on the futon that bordered one wall. As if in a daze, he stopped to stare at the various framed posters that decorated the walls of Arthur’s room. “Nice collection,” he said.

“They’re all hand-signed,” Arthur said, pointing out his favourite David Bowie poster, and positioning himself strategically so he blocked the one of the Bay City Rollers.

“Nice,” Merlin said. His face lit up when he noticed the guitar that leaned against the wall in the corner of the room. “Hey, I didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t really,” Arthur said. “I totally suck at it.”

“I doubt it,” Merlin said, lifting the guitar from its place. “Semi-acoustic? I never figured you’d go for that. Rock star, that you are.”

Arthur watched Merlin smooth away the dust from the guitar body. He kicked his trainers off and fell onto his bed.

“What about you?” Can you play?” Arthur asked, propping himself onto one elbow.

“Oh, no,” Merlin said, strumming a tinny chord. “Well, it’s been a very long time.”

Arthur grinned. “You can play. I can tell by the way you’re holding it, Merlin.” Arthur aimed a pillow at Merlin’s head.

Merlin strummed a few more chords, his fingers moving swiftly across the frets.

“Come here,” Merlin said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ll show you a thing or two, if you’d like.”

Arthur sat up and Merlin placed the guitar in his hands.

“You’re right. You aren’t much of a guitarist,” Merlin shook his head and laughed. He took hold of the guitar and positioned it correctly. “There, that’s the way to hold the nice lady you’ve got here.”

Merlin knee-walked behind Arthur, taking the guitar neck in his left hand. He brought his free hand around Arthur’s waist, moving Arthur’s hand into place, spreading his fingers over the strings. The skin of Merlin’s hands was warm, and Arthur could feel the firmness of the muscle and the strength of Merlin’s heart that beat against his back. A silence descended over them as Merlin placed Arthur’s left hand at the frets wove his fingers between them.

***

Arthur took a deep breath and pressed his back against Merlin’s chest. He absorbed the sweet sensation, but proceeded to follow Merlin’s instructions, allowing him complete control over his hands.

Merlin moved the fingers of his left hand and forced Arthur’s thumb across the strings while he sang.

_”Sweet soft summer nights,  
Dancing shadows in the distant lights,  
You came for me to follow,  
And we kissed on distant shores”_

“There,” Merlin whispered, turning his head so words came quiet in Arthur’s ear. “Just like that.”

Arthur remained still, barely breathing as Merlin turned his attention to the guitar again. When Merlin stopped and looked behind him, his eyes scanning the walls, Arthur’s face fell.

“Where’s your amp, mate?” Merlin asked. He cautiously peered alongside the walls of the room. “Hey, where are the outlets?”

A horrible moment of silence passed. “There are none,” Arthur replied in a long exhale. He flopped onto his back. “My father has forbidden them.”

“How can that be?” Merlin asked incredulously, putting the guitar back in the corner. “You have electricity.”

Arthur rolled onto his stomach and picked at the gold embroidery of the crimson comforter that covered his bed.

“No wires. It’s all automatic,” he said. “The lights, the appliances, anything my family would need electricity to run. Our house isn’t wired like a normal house would be.”

“You seem sad about it,” Merlin said.

Arthur felt the bed dip when Merlin sat beside where he lay again.

“I’m used to it,” Arthur said. “You know how it is... when you live with something for as long as you can remember, and you forget that it’s normal to you, but not to other people?”

Arthur heard Merlin’s sharp intake of breath.

“Yeah, I think I do,” Merlin said. “But, I don’t understand. Why doesn’t your father allow wires?”

Arthur turned to look at Merlin, although he was embarrassed that his eyes were red with the spikes of tears. “Because that’s what killed my mum,” he said.

“Oh, Arthur,” Merlin said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” Arthur said, after a moment. “But the effects of her death follow me every day, just as certain as the sun rises or there’s a power outage.”

Merlin shifted closer and Arthur was surprised by how much better he felt, knowing that Merlin was near.

“You know, Arthur,” Merlin sighed. “My parents are dead, yet I have fond memories of both of them. Your mum’s death doesn’t have to be the end for you.”

Arthur rolled to his back and sniffled loudly. “Oh, but in so many ways, it is.”

“No, there,” Merlin said, leaving his hand on Arthur’s shoulder as he rolled.

“Do you want to know how she died?” Arthur asked, glancing up at Merlin, the pressure of his warm hand on Arthur’s shoulder emboldening him.

“I’m not one to pry,” said Merlin. “But if it makes you feel better talking about it, yes, please tell me.”

Arthur curled onto his side. “It was at my birth,” he began.

“Go ahead,” Merlin said, his hand rubbing slow circles over Arthur’s back.

“It was to be a home birth, a water birth, in fact. That’s where Glein Midwifery Services, and Nimueh, come into the story,” Arthur said.

“It was a water birth in a large tub of warm water. I understand. Many of the mothers in Ealdor gave birth in water. It’s supposed to be less painful and a comfort to them,” Merlin said. “What happened to your mother?”

“She loved music,” Arthur began. “She had a boom box with all her favourite songs recorded on a cassette so she could listen to them when she was in labour. As soon as I was born, she handed me to my father. Somehow, the boom box got knocked into the tub. She died, Merlin. She was electrocuted.”

***

“Oh my God,” said Merlin, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s shocking. I mean… I mean… oh God! I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s alright,” Arthur said. “Most people have that reaction to it. I’m used to it, I guess.”

Merlin was clearly distressed by his reaction and Arthur sought to make him feel better about it. He grasped Merlin’s wrist and tugged his hand away from his mouth. In doing so, Merlin’s arms slid around Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur would make the excuse that he could only hold onto Merlin likewise, since he needed to be comforted as well. He folded Merlin into his arms and they held each other in an awkward embrace.

After much too long a time to be considered polite, they broke away. Arthur nodded that he was going to the loo to take care of business and brush his teeth. When he returned, he had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a T-Shirt.

“Your turn,” he said, holding out a change of clothing for Merlin and a toothbrush wrapped in plastic.

“Thanks,” Merlin smiled and ducked into the loo to prepare for sleep.

Arthur tidied his room to the sound of the water running. He wondered if Merlin needed anything special to wash his kohl off with. He started toward the loo to ask him, but decided against it.

No matter, Merlin appeared within moments, wearing a freshly scrubbed face.

“It’s been a long day,” Merlin yawned. He trudged over to the futon and spread out a quilt that had been perched on the back of it.

“Here, have a pillow or two,” Arthur grinned, tossing a couple pillows to him from the bed.

When Arthur saw that he was settled, he punched a code into the remote control. The overhead lamp dimmed away to nothing and they were left in darkness.

“Goodnight Merlin, better days tomorrow,” Arthur said.

“Goodnight,” said Merlin.

Arthur lay awake for a long while. He listened to Merlin shifting beneath his quilt. He heard his breath settling in the night as he fell asleep.

He kicked himself for not inviting Merlin into his bed, but then he had second thoughts and was glad for it. That would be no way to treat a house guest, he decided. Especially not one whose boyfriend had evidently just given him the boot. Merlin was sensitive. He was in mourning over a relationship lost, no doubt. Even if he didn’t act like it. Arthur didn’t want to press his luck.

That night, Arthur dreamt of a place deep in the wood, more than a day’s ride from Camelot. The Druids had gathered in the forest for a celebration. A feast, more decadent than anything he had ever seen in Camelot’s great hall, was set before the revellers. The forest people danced their Druid ways to their own variety of musical instruments, lutes and recorders and harps.

Among the forest creatures, Merlin wore a crown of flowers with tendrils of ivy streaming down his back. The deep blue coat and breeches make his eyes shine like ice as he moved around the circle with his people.

Arthur’s armour glinted in the sun.

The Druid priestess took Arthur by the arm and led him to the flower-strewn dais. He went with her willingly, his heart full of joy. When the music slowed, Merlin appeared at his side. Arthur smiled and took Merlin’s hands in his own.

He wasn’t surprised when the Druid priestess bound his and Merlin’s hands together with a ribbon of woven rushes. Arthur understood their handfasting rituals. Merlin had explained it to him a hundred times. Now that he was bound to Merlin, their king, he glowed with pride.

“Just wait until the sex ritual begins,” Merlin whispered with a charming wink.

The priestess gave him an admonishing nudge and the ceremony began.


	15. Chapter 15

Merlin awoke with a shout that shook the futon and jostled the pair of drapes that hung beside him.

Droplets of sweat pricked on his forehead. In the moment before he recognized where he was, he cried out, “No, no, no!” His feet kicked the quilt away in panic.

“Merlin?” Arthur was there, his hands stilling Merlin’s flailing arms.

“Merlin, you’re having a bad dream,” Arthur’s voice stirred him awake.

“Arthur?” Merlin gathered himself. His chest heaved as he gasped for more air.

“I’m here. I think you were having a nightmare,” Arthur said, rubbing his hands up and down Merlin’s arms.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Merlin said. He was so embarrassed. “I hope I didn’t wake you. Oh that’s stupid of me, of course I did.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur smiled.

“I probably woke the whole house,” Merlin grumbled. “Some overnight guest I am.” He stretched out on the futon, feeling his back crack before he became loose with sleep again.

The sun was shining through the displaced drapes. Merlin squinted as he looked around the room.

Arthur reached for him, his hand hovering above Merlin’s head before dropping to push a stray lock of hair from Merlin’s forehead. “It’s alright, Merlin,” he said. “It’s half seven. Time to be waking anyway.”

“Half seven?” Merlin asked, pulling the quilt up to his chin. “What kind of sweat-shop are you running here?”

“One where the Chief of Police sets the schedule,” Arthur said. “Come on, up you go.”

Merlin swung his legs over the side of the futon. He rose to his feet and when he did, it was as if all the events of the previous day rushed through his mind again. He watched Arthur pulling the sheets and blanket across his mattress and tucking it in before he dragged the crimson comforter over his pillows.

Merlin closed his eyes, remembering. Yesterday wasn’t a bad dream after all.

“Hey, Arthur,” he said.

“Yeah?” Arthur looked up from his fidgeting with the pillows.

“I’ve got to go make a phone call,” Merlin said.

Arthur stopped what he was doing. He said, “Of course, Merlin. I’ll go get us some breakfast.”

Merlin dug his mobile from his bag. Looking up to make sure Arthur had closed the door behind him, he speed-dialled Mordred’s number.

He supposed he should have been shocked that Mordred answered on the first ring.

“Merlin,” Mordred said.

“Mordred,” Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. He swayed for a moment, the sunlight growing brighter in Arthur’s room, the sounds of the household rumbling to alertness as the day began.

The tension being transmitted through the airwaves was as thick as clotted cream.

“I… I just want to know what’s going on,” Merlin said.

“You tell me,” Mordred said. Merlin could hear the smile in his voice.

Merlin laughed, more from nervousness than anything. “We need to talk,” he blurted out. “Are you home, will you be home today?”

Merlin looked around the room, finding the ticking alarm clock on Arthur’s bedside table. “Half seven,” he breathed aloud, remembering that Arthur had told him the time already. “I can be there soon.”

“I may be,” Mordred said. “Or I may not be.”

Merlin let the phone slide down his cheek. He paced back and forth in front of the bed.

“Mordred, I need to know. We need to talk, yeah? You can’t just change the locks and throw me out. Where am I supposed to go? We’ve been together two years. Look, I’ll stop by. We’ll talk. I’m on my way now.”

Merlin listened to the dead air before hanging up.

He shoved the phone into his bag and stripped off Arthur’s clothes, leaving them on the bed. Dressing quickly, he met Arthur in the dining room.

“Father, this is Merlin,” Arthur said.

“Hello, sir,” Merlin said, grabbing a banana off the buffet. He hoped he could employ Arthur’s help. He decided that rushing him out the door would be the best way to get to Mordred and to avoid Arthur’s father. “Arthur, if you don’t mind, I appreciate your hospitality, but I’ve really got to get going.”

He was relieved when Arthur grabbed the keys to the Smart Car and followed him out the door.

***

“I’m not going to say anything,” Arthur said as they pulled onto the main road, the Smart Car slinking into the morning traffic.

“Sorry,” Merlin said.

Arthur adjusted his aviators and chanced a glance at his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

“I was rude,” Merlin said.

“And surly,” Arthur added.

“I am so sorry,” Merlin said, turning in his seat so he could face Arthur. “I’ll make it up to you. Anything. I swear. After all you’ve done. God! I didn’t mean to act so weird in front of your father.”

“I’m just glad Morgana’s sleeping pills hadn’t worn off yet,” Arthur said. “Or you could have made me the laughingstock of my entire extended family.”

Merlin buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Arthur nodded. “It will be okay. You’re distressed.”

Merlin didn’t dare venture a look in Arthur’s direction. “Really? Will it really be okay? I feel like such an arse,” he said.

At the next red light, Arthur played with his ring, rotating it between his thumb and forefinger until the light turned green.

“It will be fine. My father understands the psychology of human nature. He’s a policeman,” Arthur exhaled resolutely. “Everything will be fine. My father is the least of your worries.”

Arthur stalked a parking place in front of Merlin’s building. He put the Smart Car into park.

“Go ahead, Merlin,” he said. “This is what you wanted to do.”

Merlin slid his hand across the Smart Car’s door. He had to admit he was nervous, scared even of what might happen if Mordred was angry.

“Good luck, Merlin,” Arthur said, chewing his bottom lip. “I wish you and Mordred every happiness.”

Merlin’s fingers were shaking as he opened the Smart Car’s door. “Arthur?”

“I’m going to wait right here,” Arthur said. He slid his aviators off and looked Merlin in the eye. “If he’s not there… or if you can’t get in to at least collect your belongings… I want your arse right back out here in this car. You’ve got work to do today.”

Arthur put his aviators back on like he meant business. Merlin closed the Smart Car door behind him and walked through the gate.

Merlin was grateful that his key could still open the entrance door. He climbed the four flights of stairs to the flat... Mordred’s flat… where they spent the first night that they met, the flat he had come to consider his own, despite all the difficulties of living with a genius like Mordred. He was a genius. He’d tell you so, himself.

Merlin pushed on the door, hoping it would open.

It didn’t.

He rapped on the door with his knuckles, but there was no sound in the flat.

He wondered a thousand things about why Mordred had left. Merlin had told him he was on his way over. He felt like shit. Like he wasn’t worth even the half-hour or so it took for Arthur to drive him there.

Arthur.

Merlin trudged down the hallway and descended the stairs.

The Smart Car was still there.

“Hey,” Arthur said through the passenger’s side window.

Merlin held his hand up to hopefully silence him.

“Please,” he said, sliding into his seat. “I’m not in the mood for your lost puppies or promises of candy today.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Arthur said. “I’ve got enough worries with The Round Table Tour being a week away. I don’t need you getting all emo on me.”

Merlin fastened his seatbelt.

“Besides,” Arthur continued. “You forgot your kohl. I almost didn’t recognize you. I thought you were a guy for a moment there.”

“Oh, mate,” Merlin replied clutching his chest. “That hurts. You wound me. Absolutely wound me. Kick me when I’m down.”

Arthur snickered as he pulled out into traffic.

Merlin laid his head back and smiled. Maybe he’d be able to make it through the day without crying after all.

***

Merlin was grateful for the time it took to get from his flat… his former flat… to the garage. He reclined his seat back as far as it would go and worked his sulky emo routine for all it was worth.

Arthur clenched his jaw, probably pissed off as hell with him for his antics at the Pendragon house, and for his whining to be taken to Mordred’s flat.

“You’re a good friend,” Merlin said absentmindedly, thinking about his own transgressions.

“What?” asked Arthur, turning to face him as he wove through rush-hour traffic.

“You’re good,” Merlin said. “You’re a good man.” He wanted more than anything to slide his hand over Arthur’s as he held the steering wheel... to reassure Arthur that he believed in him, believed that no matter what happened with Gwen and Nimueh, with his father and The Black Zigzags, with the Police Academy and The Knights… Merlin would always see Arthur’s goodness in dealing with any the situation, no matter how daunting. He’d always believe Arthur was doing the best he could. He had certainly proved it to Merlin, both by taking in a vagabond, and by driving him to his boyfriend’s house.

They parked the Smart Car and Merlin followed Arthur onto the loading dock, sliding under the corrugated door, to make their entrance.

Merlin tossed his satchel onto the table, as usual, so he could go over his notes as the band rehearsed. He also had a good mind to go over all the electronics with a fine toothed comb to take care of the anomalies in the equipment that he noticed during the previous rehearsal at the Avalon Theatre. It was going to be a long day. And when it was over he hoped that Arthur would take him to Mordred’s flat again, just to get his things and make sure he wasn’t mistaken in their relationship being over.

“Hey, guys,” Leon said, turning his head from the ping pong table to greet the new arrivals.

“What’s all this?” asked Arthur.

“It’s bloody brilliant,” Percival said, raising a paddle in the air.

“It’s junk,” Gwen said, approaching Arthur and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “They found it on the side of the road whilst Lance and I were transporting the keyboards and the drum kit. They decided they couldn’t live without it.

“Damn right,” said Leon, returning Percival’s serve.

The weightless white ball flew through the air, landing somewhere among the empty pizza boxes that were stacked in the corner.

“Here you go, mate,” Percival got into serve position and slammed the ball with the paddle.

This time, the ball bounced toward the seldom-used conventional door. Before the ball bounced to a stop, the door opened and a slim woman decked in red stepped into the garage. She bent to pick up the ball, her scarlet nails contrasting like a candy cane on the white of the ping pong ball.

Gwen rushed over to her and took the ball from her hand. She greeted her and drew her toward Arthur.

“Arthur,” said Gwen. “This is Nimueh. I thought she could hang out and watch us rehearse today.”

“Sure, Gwen,” said Arthur graciously. “Nimueh, make yourself at home.”

Merlin wasn’t sure how Arthur did it. He not only managed to keep his composure when Gwen brought _that woman_ into The Knights’ rehearsal, but he sounded better than ever on vocals.

The day flew by and saw Merlin checking his mobile a hundred times for a message from Mordred. Each time he punched the damn thing on, it was like a little stab into his heart. That’s right, he told himself. You were nothing to Mordred. He doesn’t want you back. You’re not worth it to him. You’ll never be worth anything to anyone.

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve more times than he cared to think. At least he was preoccupied and busy with the equipment, although Gwaine seemed to notice something was wrong, but as soon as he could ask if Merlin was alright, Elyan dragged him away to practice some new song or to listen to a riff he had worked out.

Before Merlin knew it, it was time to leave.


	16. Chapter 16

“You sounded great today,” Merlin said, his hand waiting on the Smart Car’s handle for Arthur to unlock the doors. The warehouse was in a shitty part of town and Merlin recalled the time he was knocked down by a hoodlum when he first applied for the roadie job. Christ, was it only a few weeks ago? It seemed like a lifetime.

“Hmmph,” Arthur grumbled, backing the Smart Car out of its parking space.

“And so did Gwen and Nimueh,” Merlin added. “They sounded great together.”

Arthur reached for his shades, although the afternoon sun was obscured by clouds.

“I suppose it can’t be easy,” Merlin said, fiddling with the volume on the radio.

“What’s that?” Arthur asked.

“Being large and in charge,” Merlin laughed.

Arthur pulled onto the main road. Merlin held his breath, wondering whether Arthur would turn toward Mordred’s flat or just continue home.

“Someone has to make the difficult decisions,” Arthur said, his jaw clenched tight. “Even if that means letting everyone else do their own thing, while the so-called leader puts his inclinations aside for the greater good of the others.”

Merlin exhaled the breath that he had intentionally taken and held, as the car sped up.

“You might learn something from that,” Arthur said, nodding Merlin’s way.

Merlin closed his eyes for the ride to Mordred’s flat.

He was a little surprised that Arthur was taking him there... especially after his little speech. As they got closer to the tenement, Merlin nervously jiggled his knee up and down, like it was attached to a runaway sewing machine.

“Would you quit it?” Arthur said.

“What?” asked Merlin.

“All that nervous energy. You’ve been would up tight all day,” Arthur said.

Merlin hoped that Arthur had spoken more harshly than he had intended. “For Chrissakes, Arthur, I’ve just lost my boyfriend of two years. It wasn’t the way I intended the relationship to end, but I’d think you’d show me some empathy. It’s not like you didn’t know how stressed out I was when you picked me up and brought me to your house last night.”

Arthur wheeled the Smart Car into an open space in front of the tenement. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, knocking the aviators out of place.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I’m sure you’re more upset even than you appear. You’ve done a good job holding it together today.”

Merlin sniffed loudly.

“What’s the plan?” Arthur asked, pushing his glasses back into place.

“I need to talk to him. If he’s there, I’ll do my best to start a conversation,” Merlin said, fidgeting with the seatbelt. “I want to explain-”

“Merlin,” Arthur started. “This guy seems like a complete clotpole. Are you sure it’s worth your time to address him? I know it’s been two years... I’m not dismissing that... but maybe if you show some confidence and got out of the relationship while you still could... You might feel better about it.”

Merlin slapped his palm against the radio dial, silencing the music.

“Arthur! Don’t act like you understand, because you don’t!” Merlin shouted.

“Okay, okay,” Arthur said holding his hands in the air. “I just don’t like seeing you get jerked around.”

Merlin opened the door and stepped onto the curb. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t yell at you. It’s not your fault,” Merlin said.

Arthur made a dismissive motion with his hand.

“I’ve got to try,” Merlin said. “He’s all I have. If it’s going to end, I want it to end well. Can you understand that?”

Arthur slumped down in his seat. “No, not really,” he said.

Merlin shut the car door, only to hear Arthur lowering the passenger’s side window.

“I’ll be waiting here... just in case,” Arthur said.

Merlin nodded and walked through the gate.

***

“God,” Arthur said, reclining his seat back and flipping the radio back on.

Why was it that he, as an outsider, could always see the proper course of action, when no one else, who was directly involved, could?

“Shite,” Arthur said. 

The minutes ticked by. Arthur checked his watched. He waited a few minutes, then checked the clock in the Smart Car. He checked his watch again.

Just as he expected, Merlin pushed through the gate and slid into the passenger’s seat again.

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “He wasn’t there?”

“Take me to your house,” Merlin said. “Please?”

Arthur couldn’t help but notice Merlin’s eyes were red. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, while Arthur drove. Arthur felt bad. He tapped his ring on the steering wheel as he waited at a red light. He did feel bad, didn’t he? Who was Arthur kidding? Merlin was fucking adorable. And this guy who was treating him roughly was going to pay, if it was the last thing Arthur did. He didn’t feel bad for Merlin. He was pissed off.

They arrived at the Pendragon house well after dinnertime. Arthur tried to avoid dining with Uther and Morgana at every opportunity, so he grabbed some takeaway they had left in the refrigerator, nuked it in the cordless microwave, and took it to his room.

“Sorry, father,” Arthur mouthed to Uther when they passed in the hallway. “My head roadie is very upset about a personal issue and I won’t let you interfere with my methods for resolving it. Thanks, but…” Arthur nodded toward his bedroom door, a plate of steaming Hong Sue Gai in his hand.

“Arthur, I appreciate your willingness to take care of your friend in his time of need, but I would like to have a word with you, when you have a moment.”

“Yes, father,” Arthur said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Arthur carried the dish into the room. Merlin lay on his stomach across Arthur’s bed, technical notes spread across the crimson comforter.

“Here we go,” Arthur said, holding to dish close to Merlin’s nose so Merlin couldn’t avoid the aroma wafting through the air.

“I’m not hungry,” Merlin said.

“Come on, try a little,” Arthur said. “I’ve got two forks.”

Merlin pulled a face and took a fork. He forced a bite of food onto it.

Arthur watched as his pink tongue reached out to taste the morsel.

“See? You’re hungry! You haven’t eaten a thing all day, not since you ate that banana this morning,” Arthur said.

Merlin grumbled. 

If it were possible for Merlin to grow any more sullen, it had happened, right before Arthur’s eyes.

“Mordred used to say…” Merlin began.

Arthur listened, but when it became obvious that Merlin hadn’t the wherewithal to continue, Arthur debated about whether to prod him for more.

Arthur chuffed down a few bites of food.

“I was going to leave him, you know,” Merlin said. 

The declaration came out of nowhere, and it made Arthur’s heart break a little.

“I don’t think I really could have done it, though,” Merlin said with a sniffle.

Arthur put the plate of food down.

“Of course you could have,” Arthur said. His hands were threatening to get grabby, so he laid one across Merlin’s back where he could smooth it over Merlin’s ratty green T-Shirt. The little quakes Merlin’s chest made, as he heaved on the verge of tears, broke Arthur apart.

One part of him wanted to fuck Merlin silly to make him forget about that asshole he called his boyfriend, but another part suggested a more chivalrous route. Damn it if blasted chivalry won every time with Arthur.

“Everything will be alright, Merlin,” Arthur spoke as his hand soothed across Merlin’s back. “You’re better than that. I know it’s hard to believe it right now, but you deserve so much more.”

Merlin’s sobbing seemed to ease a bit. Arthur almost thought he had fallen asleep.

“Look,” Arthur said. “I need to go talk to my father for a minute. “Why don’t you get ready for bed, and I’ll be right back, yeah?”

Arthur rose from the bed and headed for the door. He opened it, the automatic lighting illuminating the hallway.

Merlin turned his head toward Arthur.

“Thanks,” he said.

*** 

Arthur wandered into the kitchen and found Uther rummaging through some bills at the granite topped island that stood in the centre of the room. He dropped the dish into the sink, the clattering sound disturbing the silence.

“Arthur, we need to talk about your friend,” Uther said.

Arthur sighed. “Look, I came out here to talk to you because I’ve run into a situation that may make you uncomfortable. I thought we could talk about it, but I suppose that’s too much to ask for.”

“Arthur,” Uther said. “You know I’m always willing to talk with you. I just think it’s inappropriate for you to be hauling your roadie all over town, while he gets his personal life in order. And you haven’t had someone spend the night in two decades. This is not a rooming house.”

“No? Then why is Morgana here?” Arthur asked. “She fell on hard times and you’ve decided to help her out. Why can’t I do the same for a friend?”

“That boy is hardly a friend, Arthur, and you know it,” Uther said.

For the first time, Arthur felt a chill travel down his spine, thinking that his father knew the reason that not one of his relationships with the ladies of Camelot had ever worked out.

He was swift to change the subject.

“Well, maybe he’d like to enter the Police Academy? Did you ever think of that?” asked Arthur.

“Arthur,” Uther said. “I can see this conversation is going from one insane premise to the other. The next thing you’ll be telling me is that you want him to live here as your manservant.”

Arthur snorted. “Well, maybe that’s not a bad idea,” he said.

“Arthur, it’s all well and good to help people, but you need to help people so they can make their way on their own. There’s no joy to be had in enabling someone who won’t help themselves,” Uther said.

“But Merlin’s not like that,” Arthur said. “He will help himself. I assure you, it won’t take long.”

“How long until The Round Table Tour?” Uther counted the days on his fingers. “I trust you’ll be done with this nonsense by then.”

“I suppose I’ll have to be. We’ll be on the road before long. Goodnight father.”

Arthur pressed a kiss to Uther’s cheek and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

Arthur rapped his knuckles on the door softly, but heard no sound. When he opened the door, he saw that Merlin had changed into his sleepwear from the previous night. He was sound asleep. Arthur collected the dirty laundry and tossed it into the hamper. If Merlin’s so-called boyfriend wasn’t going to budge, they’d have to find some clothes for Merlin soon. He couldn’t very well walk around in Arthur’s pyjamas all day, although the thought was sweet. Arthur stripped off his clothes, brushed his teeth, and donned his own T-Shirt and sleep pants.

Merlin looked so peaceful, for a change. Arthur punched the code to dim the light and lay down bedside Merlin. He listened to the soft breaths that emitted from his open mouth. Without thinking twice, he slid his arms around him and fell asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

He wasn’t sure how they got there, but when the protective morning fog lifted and the Valley of Fallen Kings came into view, their dangerous position became obvious. Now, they were easy pickings for the wyverns. The winged predators circled overhead, in search of their prey.

“We need to take cover,” Arthur shouted.

The sun’s morning rays made Arthur’s armour shine in a silver glow that served as a beacon to the beasts who now swooped toward them to get a better look at their breakfast.

“Do you _still_ think it’s such a good idea to go hunting alone?” Merlin asked, with his eyes to the sky. He stumbled on the damp mossy ground, his arms weighed down with Arthur’s crossbow and a brace of rabbits.

Arthur snarled at Merlin from his position, guarded by a jumble of rocks. “It would have been a better idea if I had a manservant who remembered to tether the horses properly.”

“Arthur! Look out!” Merlin had shouted his warning just in time as a wyvern emerged from the sky and flew straight toward Arthur’s left side. He raised his sword at the beast, barely noticing the second wyvern that approached on the right.

Arthur moved quickly and ran the snarling creature through, fresh blood dripping from his sword and dotting the mossy ground while the second wyvern retreated in the sky.

“That’ll show them,” Arthur said, sheathing his sword.

Merlin panted with relief. “Oh, that was a close one,” Merlin said.

But he had spoken too soon. Ready to fight again, the shunned wyvern soared toward Arthur. As Arthur reached for his sword and hoisted it in the air, he knew he’d never make contact with the wyvern in time to save himself from its claws and sharp pincers. He continued in his follow through, hoping to at least deflect some of the wyvern’s impact.

“Get down, Merlin!” he shouted before the wyvern swooped in to tear him apart.

As he turned his head to shield his face from the wyvern’s claws, he caught a glimpse of Merlin, disobeying his commands, as usual. He was standing tall with an outstretched palm and mumbling words that Arthur didn’t understand, Merlin’s eyes flashing gold with fire.

Arthur heard a deafening roar and the wyvern burst into a thousand pieces, each one falling to the ground like a piece of parchment. The force of the explosion knocked Arthur off his feet. He lay there shuddering from the heated wind that filled the valley as if it were struck by a fireball.

Dazed, Arthur waited a moment for the dust to settle.

“Arthur? Are you alright?” Merlin asked, rushing toward him, refusing to make eye contact even as he helped Arthur to rise.

“Merlin?” Arthur said feebly as he crouched on all fours.

Merlin lowered his head, without saying anything.

“Merlin, you saved my life,” said Arthur, gasping for breath. He clutched Merlin’s arm. “I saw what you did… thank you.”

Merlin’s eyes flew open. “Arthur? You’re not angry?” Merlin asked, his eyebrows knitted together.

“You did what you had to do, Merlin,” Arthur said. “If you hadn’t used you magic, I’d have been killed.”

“But Arthur… your father… he’ll have me killed,” Merlin said.

“I’ll protect you Merlin,” Arthur said. “You saved me. Your secret is safe with me. Besides, I saw you with your nose buried in that magic book of yours years ago.”

Merlin looked as if he would nearly bubble over with joy.

Arthur slid his hands through Merlin’s hair and drew him near.

“Don’t ever doubt my word,” Arthur said.

“I promise I won’t,” said Merlin, his eyes filled with adoration for his prince.

***

“Mmmph,” Merlin mumbled in his sleep.

Arthur stretched out one leg and tugged Merlin closer. He could never be angry with him, no matter what, secret magic book be damned. He nosed his way behind Merlin’s ear and smelled his own shampoo that Merlin must have used in the shower.

Sliding his hand down Merlin’s arm, he gave a little shove to the knobby elbow that was prodding Arthur’s ribs. Merlin stretched his arm out and slipped his hand beneath his pillow.

“Mmmm,” Arthur purred, contented as a cat. He flexed his toes and only then froze when he realized that his legs were entangled with Merlin’s. The crimson and gold comforter was draped over them while they slept, but he knew he didn’t put it there. Merlin must have.

Arthur relaxed and smiled at the thought of Merlin waking up, covering them both over, and slipping right into his embrace again.

Merlin felt warm in his arms, and Arthur got a great deal of comfort from knowing that Merlin needed some comfort after the day Merlin had at the hands of his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, Arthur reminded himself. And he hoped Merlin would be thinking of Mordred as an ex-boyfriend. The sooner, the better.

Merlin must have felt the tension riding through Arthur’s muscles because he fidgeted his way loose and rolled onto his back. Arthur just let his arms stay with the gangly limbs and sharp hipbones that made up the distinctive part of Merlin’s body beneath the covers while he turned. His hand ended up in the soft swell of Merlin’s belly. Not only did the feeling of the springy hair beneath Merlin’s borrowed shirt make Arthur grin like a fool, but it also made Arthur’s cock plump more fully than he was comfortable with whilst sharing a bed with a friend in distress.

He pitched his hips a little bit backwards to give himself some room, should Merlin wake up and be uncomfortable with their proximity. 

Arthur wondered what time it was, but he didn’t dare turn his head to take note of the wind-up clock that marked the hours of night for him. A soft moonglow played off the clouds outside, giving the room some dim light, as if they were in a soft summer haze. 

For all his sharp angles and point features, Merlin’s lips seemed like they were manufactured in an entirely different factory. They looked as soft as candy floss and as lush as a ripe strawberry.

Arthur was sure that most girls would be jealous of the way they glistened beneath a smeared finger of lip gloss. Merlin’s lips were made to be kissed. After some consideration, Arthur thought he was even more jealous of Mordred, than girls might be of Merlin’s lips. He hugged Merlin a little tighter at the thought, and dozed off to sleep again.

Some hours later, he was awakened by Merlin’s voice.

“Hey, Arthur,” he said, with a nudge of his foot. “Hey, time to wake up, yeah?”

Arthur was pleased that, although Merlin kicked at him, he didn’t push him away. Emboldened, Arthur said, “I don’t want to get up, this feels so cosy.”

Merlin hummed a little sigh and snuggled closer.

“We can just stay like this, yeah?” Arthur said. “And you won’t think I’m weird that I’d want to.”

Merlin propped himself up on an elbow and rolled his eyes at Arthur.

“You act like you’ve never slept with a man before,” Merlin said.

And with that, Merlin rolled out of bed, taking the warmth with him, and leaving Arthur to wonder whether it was that obvious.

***

“You’re looking well, Merlin,” Gwaine said, throwing a few air punches at Merlin when he and Arthur rolled under the corrugated door. “The Princess has been doing a good job of looking after you.”

Merlin blushed adorably as he threw his satchel of paperwork onto the table.

Arthur just shook his head. He’d only rile Gwaine worse if he complained about the nickname. He knew he had plenty more battles to pick with him, so he’d better choose them wisely. A suave guitarist like Gwaine would be sought after as a front man, if he wasn’t spending all his time playing second fiddle to Arthur. It was a strong point of contention between them, and Arthur chose to ignore it as much as possible.

Lance and Percy looked to be nearly ready to begin. Percy tested each drum and percussion piece using various strikes and intensities with the precision of a surgeon, while Lance flooded the warehouse with some jazzy melodies that make Arthur think he was at a Phish concert. Since their instruments took the longest time to set up, the whole band always deferred their timing to meet Lance and Percy’s pace. 

Leon and Elyan were engaged in the current diversion of the day, a one-on-one championship ping pong match.

“Hello, Arthur,” Gwen rushed forward to give Arthur a peck on the cheek. “Getting excited now that the opening night of The Round Table Tour is only a few days away, I’m sure.”

“Truth be told, I’ve had so much on my mind, it seems like just yesterday we began planning for this,” Arthur said.

“It goes by quickly,” said Nimueh who was decked out in leather pants although it was twenty-five degrees and noontime.

“Not quick enough,” Arthur said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I really need to thank you, Arthur. You’ve done such a terrific job pulling this together,” Gwen said.

“Yes,” Nimueh agreed. “It’s a thrill to be a part of it.”

“Arthur,” Gwen began. “Nimueh and I were going to stay late this afternoon and do some fine tuning. It would be brilliant if you could hang around a bit after the guys break up.”

“I suppose I could manage that,” Arthur said.

“That’s good indeed, Arthur,” Nimueh chimed in. “With the Black Zigzags as your opening band, The Knights will have to sound their best to avoid being booed off the stage.”

Gwen bit her lip.

Arthur looked at Nimueh sceptically. “Well, let’s work on making sure that doesn’t happen.”

“One, two, three, four!” Percy called out, and so the practice began.

They ran through their set list in a random order. It was always a good idea to mix things up as the tour’s opening night grew nearer. It would keep them fresh when it came time to perform before a live audience.

By five o’clock, they had gone through a half-dozen pizzas, a case of Red Bull, and each song twice.

When Arthur told Merlin that he’d be staying late to help Gwen and Nimueh, Merlin was only too happy to head to the pub at Gwaine and Elyan’s invitation.

“Besides, we need to catch up on old times,” Merlin said. “If you don’t want in, Gwaine can give me a ride back to your house, or I can crash at their place if they’re too pissed to drive.”

“That sounds fine by me,” Arthur said. “I could use a night off from watching over you.”

Arthur turned to Gwen and Nimueh, as the guys headed out to the pub.

“Where do we begin?” he asked.


	18. Chapter 18

“And to this day, they never discovered how the peanut butter got there!” Gwaine shouted, slapping Merlin on the back.

Elyan raised his pint in a rowdy toast to the two uni friends that had been reunited through their work with The Knights.

The pub was crowded for a Tuesday. There were the usual girls who hung out in a pack, vying for Gwaine or Elyan’s attention. They’d have to be fools to not recognise that they only had eyes for each other.

Merlin nursed his second pint, wanting to make sure he had a clear head if he went back to the Pendragon’s tonight and inadvertently ran into the Chief. He was pleased to have been invited to go out with Gwaine and Elyan. It had been ages since he went anywhere at night, having been cooped up in Mordred’s flat for the past two years, unable to find work or make friends outside of the bleak tenement walls.

He and Gwaine caught up on the twists and turns their lives had taken since Merlin dropped out of uni when his mum died. Gwaine had come a long way from being that geeky kid who knew all the ingredients to manufacture fireworks. He was an ace guitarist in a prominent band. Merlin couldn’t feel anything but happiness for his success, even if he did break Merlin’s heart when he started dating the captain of the girls’ volleyball team in between trysts with Merlin behind the field house. Merlin supposed it would be best to not bring that up in front of his current boyfriend.

“Why are you doing that to yourself?” Gwaine asked.

“Oh, this?” Merlin suddenly noticed that he had torn his paper napkins into shreds, moistened it with a few drops of ale, and then proceeded to shape the mess into a paper mache figure of some prehistoric winged creature.

“Let it go, Merlin,” Elyan said.

“What?” Merlin gathered the sloppy mess into the palm of his hand.

“It’s time to move on,” Gwaine said.

“There’s plenty of fish in the sea,” said Elyan. “If this one hadn’t moved on from that horrid volleyball player, he’d never have given me a chance.”

With that, Gwaine slid one hand up Elyan’s shirt, reached behind his head with the other, and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

“You guys are going to get us thrown out,” Merlin laughed.

Somewhere in the pub, someone yelled, “Get a room!”

“I guess you guys are right,” Merlin said solemnly. “Time to move on. Hey, listen, I just remembered something I’ve got to do. You guys have a great time. In fact, the next round is on me.”

Merlin threw a few bills onto the table amid the cheers from the pub-goers.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us, Merlin?” Gwaine asked whilst briefly coming up for air.

“No, it’ll be fine,” Merlin said. “I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow.”

Merlin threw his satchel over his shoulder and hurried out the pub door before he could change his mind.

Outside, the night was warm so he didn’t regret that he had declined Arthur’s offer of a borrowed jumper when they left the house in the morning.

He took long strides down the sidewalk, headed for the train station. For a moment, he took his mobile out of the satchel to check to see if he had any missed calls.

There were none.

He thought about ringing Arthur to let him know where he was heading, but he decided that he had imposed on Arthur’s good cheer enough for one week and he stuffed the phone away.

By the time he reached the station, he had considered calling Mordred to see if he was home, rather than waste fare on the trip. He leaned against a billboard advertisement, taking time to gather his thoughts. No, he’d go just as he was. The element of surprise would ensure his sanity in case he chickened out when he got to the flat.

He paid the fare and climbed aboard.

***

Arthur bid goodbye to Gwen and Nimueh. Their session went well and he didn’t foresee having to arrange another meeting before the start of The Round Table Tour. To his relief, it seemed like the planets had lined up right. Any initial fears he had about the tour were swiftly being assuaged. Problems were being resolved, save for his father’s prediction that the summer in which Arthur planned to indulge in live music performance would fizzle out after the first show.

Arthur considered tracking down the pub where Elyan and Gwaine had taken Merlin. He had to be pissed by now. The boy weighed less than ten stone soaking wet and there was no way he wanted him to try drinking Elyan or Gwaine under the table if he became distraught over his break-up.

He tapped on his mobile, but stopped himself from calling. He wasn’t Merlin’s nanny. Merlin would be fine with Gwaine and Elyan. They’d put him up for the night, he was sure, as they likely didn’t want to drive all the way out to Arthur’s part of the suburbs when they were nearer to their own home within the city limits.

The night temperature was mild, so Arthur drove the winding road to the top of Mt. Tintagel. He hadn’t been there in more than a week and he was craving a few minutes to himself.

The summit was deserted. He pulled into the small gravel parking lot. On the weekends, Arthur knew from experience that he had a good chance of running into couples parked for a make-out session. And there was that one time that a guy walked up to Arthur’s car window and offered to blow him. Arthur had considered accepting the offer for a split second, but deferred to his wiser self. It would be front page news in the Camelot Times if the police chief’s son were found to be engaging in tawdry anonymous sex acts atop Mt. Tintagel. Uther could do without that.

Arthur left the Smart Car and strode onto the grassy patch of mowed meadow. The stars bit through the night sky above him, but they faded to nothing when Arthur gazed to the lights of the city. 

He sat in the grass and watched the movements of vehicles, their bright headlights weaving up and down the streets. There were police sirens and moving vans, transportation trucks and streetcars. 

The city was alive below him.

No one loved the city more than his father did. He loved being in charge of the police force. He loved the feeling of power it gave him to oversee right from wrong. To put criminals away and to help those who needed it. Justice ran through his veins. Arthur couldn’t blame him for wanting to see the same passion in his own son. But Arthur couldn’t understand why his father saw this potential in him at all, when he was blind to the things that were important to Arthur.

He supposed he’d never know.

He wished he could make his father proud.

He wished he could be something that his father could respect, because like it or not, being the lead singer of a band didn’t cut it and it likely never would.

Arthur traced his fingers through the grass.

And what was he going to do about Merlin?

Arthur craved that comfortable feeling of this morning when they woke up wrapped around each other. He wished he knew a way to prolong their cuddle session, but Merlin had put it to an abrupt end when Arthur told him how much he liked the feeling.

Arthur sighed. Merlin had a lot on his mind, Arthur supposed.

Merlin couldn’t go on living off the charity of friends, but he’d sorely miss Merlin tonight if he stayed with Gwaine and Elyan. Arthur hoped that maybe they’d be able to make Merlin forget the falling out he had with his boyfriend, so he could get on with life.

*** 

The first thing Merlin noticed, when he rounded the corner onto the street where he had lived with Mordred, was that the lights in the flat on the fourth story were illuminated. He chewed on his lower lip, while he prepared himself mentally for a confrontation.

He might not be able to take Mordred in a physical fight, but with the right attitude, he might come out of it with his belongings and a newfound appreciation for being honest. 

He hoped so at least. 

Something about being around Arthur and The Knights had given Merlin the confidence to address Mordred, without the fear of being steamrollered over, or struck by an angry fist.

He steeled himself and walked through the gate. Digging through his satchel to find the set of keys, half of which had recently been rendered useless by Mordred’s lock-changing antics, he came up with the goods and inserted the key into the lock.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, as he began to climb the steps. 

The flights of stairs, which once seemed endless to him when he carried a bag of groceries or a load of laundry, flew by. He passed each door of family conversations, children crying, and lovers quarrelling, until he stood at the door that he once considered his own.

He shifted back and forth on his feet, trying to muster the nerve to knock.

God only knew, the key was useless.

He knocked three sharp times on the wooden door.

His ears strained to hear if Mordred was moving through the tiny flat.

He stayed out of the peephole’s eye, lest Mordred not make any effort to communicate if he knew it was Merlin who was at his door.

Footsteps approached, but it was hard for Merlin to gauge their proximity with all the noise in the tenement.

“Who’s there?”

Mordred’s voice sent chills down Merlin’s spine. He couldn’t believe he had taken up with him so easily when times were desperate.

“Mordred, it’s me, Merlin,” Merlin said, trying to sound bold. “I’d like to talk with you. And I’d like to get my things.”

Merlin waited.

Hearing no response, he put his ear next to the door.

“Mordred? I know you’re in there. You have things that belong to me. Let me in.”

The minutes ticked by slowly, and before long, it seemed like Mordred would never open the door.

Merlin thought of how awful it was of him to ditch his friends tonight, and Arthur would be worried certainly if he found out that he hadn’t spent the night with Gwaine and Elyan.

Merlin sank to the floor.

He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there in silence, but his nose soon began to twitch with the smell of smoke.

The flat had a fireplace, although Mordred wouldn’t be using it on a warm summer night such as this. Still, the acrid smell seeped out of the transom and the space beneath the door.

“Mordred!” Merlin pounded on the door. 

Mordred wouldn’t set the tenement on fire, would he, Merlin wondered?

“Mordred!” he shouted again, louder.

He couldn’t express his jubilation when the lock tumblers began to turn.

“Mordred!” he banged on the door once more for good measure, the smoke hanging in the air outside the doorway.

The door opened and Mordred stood in the entry to the flat, a smile on his face.

“Mordred?” Merlin said, barging past him into the kitchen. “What are you doing? Where is this smoke coming from?”

Merlin saw all too soon what had caused the smoke. Mordred had started a fire in the hearth grate. When Merlin looked closer among the smouldering ashes and red sparks that still crackled and sputtered, he could not believe his eyes. Here were the contents of his cardboard box, his life’s possessions.

He tried to fish out the bits of wadded up notes.

“You burnt my money?” he screamed.

He lifted the edge of some of the charred papers, letters that once meant something to him were reduced to ash now, as was the photograph of his mother, that he could never hope to reminisce with again.


	19. Chapter 19

Merlin felt sick. Any plans to confidently sum up his and Mordred’s relationship, and the many reasons for its demise, flew out the window along with the smoke from his destroyed belongings. 

The sting of fire-dust hung low near the floor, coating every surface with a fine layer of ash as it settled.

Merlin was crushed. He sat on his haunches in front of the grate, trying to piece together any tatters of paper that hadn’t had their writing obliterated by the wave of destruction.

His hands shook.

“All my things,” he cried. “Why did you burn all my things?”

The answer was unimportant, but the question had to be asked, as if the asking would allow some gap for a reasonable explanation to seep through.

From his knees, he didn’t see Mordred’s expression, but he heard his cold laugh as he hovered over him.

“You think you’re better than me, Emrys,” Mordred said.

Tears came to Merlin’s eyes as he dropped the shards of burnt paper and raised his chin, his eyes traveling from Mordred’s boots up his long legs to where he stood with his hands on his hips.

“I’ll beat you every time,” Mordred said.

Merlin’s mouth was so dry he couldn’t speak. He licked his lips, trying to form words that expressed his rage, but there was only sorrow.

He wished to hell that he hadn’t ordered that second pint with Gwaine and Elyan. Maybe then, he could think with a clearer head.

Somewhere in the tenement, music was playing. Merlin was only vaguely aware of the tune, but the strains of instrumentation urged him into action. It was time to abandon the articles in the fire grate. There was no hope for restoring any of it now.

He needed to cry. He needed to find Arthur. Arthur would know how to make this right.

Merlin looked away from Mordred. He righted himself by gripping onto an old overstuffed chair, its springs worn through into the cushions.

As he stood, he remembered the scarf that he kept in his bedside table. Perhaps some good could come of this ill-fated trip to the flat, even if it was only a scrap of fabric, the memento of his mother’s love.

In three quick steps, he was inside the bedroom. He dove toward the drawer. He barely registered the feeling of Mordred’s arms tackling his legs as he yanked the drawer open.

Crashing to the floor, with Mordred still on him, he tugged the fabric into his hands. He was surprised that it was intact and just as he remembered it, since everything else had been destroyed. Before he had a chance to relish the small victory, Mordred snatched the cloth away from him.

“No,” Merlin cried. “Give it back to me!”

Mordred’s eyes flashed fire. “I’ll give it to you,” he shouted.

Before Merlin knew what was happening, Mordred had wrapped the scarf around Merlin’s neck. Merlin gasped for air as Mordred tightened his hold.

Merlin kicked at Mordred’s legs, tried anything to get himself free, but Mordred wouldn’t let go. He tugged on the scarf, raising Merlin’s head above the floor before slamming it down again and again. After what seemed like minutes, Merlin took advantage of a space when Mordred paused to catch his breath. He wrestled himself away from his grasp and crawled into the kitchen.

Inch by inch, he moved along the floor. He felt the cool pulse of blood on the back of his head as he slid along the linoleum, headed for the door.

He nearly made it, when Mordred was on him again, this time gripping at his hips. Between Merlin’s forward motion and Mordred’s gripping hands, his jeans became tugged down, exposing his arse to Mordred’s whims.

Merlin tried to get his knees under him, but the slippery floor didn’t help matters.

Mordred got to his feet and kicked Merlin’s knees apart. He began to laugh.

Merlin continued his excruciatingly slow crawl for the door, finally reaching it and collapsing in the hallway.

“I don’t even want to fuck you! You make me sick!” Mordred shouted as he locked the door behind him.

Merlin didn’t know how long he lay there gasping and bleeding on the floor of the dirty hallway, but he finally managed to get down the stairs. 

He began to walk.

***

Arthur tossed and turned.

He thought back to the previous evening when he slipped into bed beside Merlin’s sleeping body. It had been ages since Arthur had spent the night with someone. Sure, he got laid plenty of times, but there was something about that shared intimacy of sleeping in each other’s space that he craved, once he had Merlin to remind him of it.

The ticking clock told him it was after midnight.

He picked up his mobile and tapped out Merlin’s number, just to make sure he got to Gwaine and Elyan’s alright, and he didn’t need Arthur to wait up to let him in. When Merlin didn’t pick up, Arthur smiled. They must still be at the pub, Arthur thought. He was going to give him some shit about it tomorrow for sure.

Arthur grabbed a pillow and rolled it under the covers. He flung his arms over the mass of sheathed down, inhaling the Merlin smell that was left on the pillow after last night.

He soon fell asleep, dreaming of the lands they could conquer together.

The bells rang out from the heights of the tallest towers of Camelot and echoed through the village squares in every corner of the kingdom. Uther was dead and now Arthur’s coronation ceremony had been complete.

Everywhere in the land, children danced and the inhabitants rejoiced. A new day had dawned.

No sooner had Geoffrey placed the crown upon his head and the sceptre in his hand, had Arthur declared that Camelot and the kingdom he ruled would be a safe haven for those who practiced magic.

Arthur strode through the gallery and clasped Old Gaius’s shoulder. He felt certain that Gaius thought he’d never live to see the day. Perhaps only he truly knew where Arthur disappeared to as soon as the proclamation was made.

Deep in the dungeon below Camelot’s main floors, Arthur’s cloak skimmed along the ground behind him. He knew exactly how many steps it was from his chambers to a certain dungeon cell, one he visited every night since his father had condemned his manservant to imprisonment. Although the penalty had been death for the practicing of sorcery, Arthur had begged for Merlin’s life. It was a small measure of success that Merlin was not burned on the pyre, but instead was imprisoned beneath the castle.

Guards cleared the way before him and had already unlocked Merlin’s cell when he arrived.

Merlin had been sitting on his cot, waiting for Arthur to walk through the dungeon’s gate. He stood when Arthur approached, his eyes crinkled with joy in the torchlight.

“My king,” he said, over and over while Arthur embraced him, his hands buried in his hair.

“You’re free now, Merlin,” Arthur said, and with that he dropped to his knees and kissed Merlin’s hands.

“You’re free now, Merlin… free now…” Arthur awoke in a sweaty tangle of sheets. He had a dream. Another dream about Merlin.

He craned his neck to look at the clock. Two in the morning.

He grabbed his mobile and rang Merlin again, wondering if the dream was some kind of premonition, wondering if Merlin was in danger. He had a bad feeling about just this when the call went unanswered. He didn’t care what time it was, he dialled Gwaine.

By the fourth ring, he thought for sure it was going to go to voicemail, but he was relieved to hear Gwaine’s voice.

“Hi Gwaine, I know this probably sounds like I’m being a gigantic girl, but is Merlin with you?”

“No mate, I thought he’d be at your place. He left us at the pub hours ago. Said he had something to do,” Gwaine said.

“He did? Do you know where he was headed?” Arthur asked.

“He didn’t say. I’m sure he’s fine. He didn’t have more than two pints in him. He said he’d see us tomorrow,” Gwaine said.

“Well he’s not here,” Arthur said. “I’m going to go looking for him.”

“Do you want any help? I can check back at the pub or head over to the warehouse?” Gwaine asked.

Arthur could tell by the shuffling noises that Gwaine was getting dressed as he spoke. “Yes, that would be great. I know of another place he may be. I’ll head there now. Call me right away if you find him.”

In no time, Arthur was backing the Smart Car out of the garage.

***

Arthur knew exactly where he was headed. Thankfully, Merlin had accepted a ride home from him before. He shuddered to think if he hadn’t known where Merlin had lived with Mordred. How would he begin to find Merlin then?

He cursed the red light at the end of the street for slowing his progress.

If Mordred did anything to Merlin, he’d be furious.

He turned onto the main road that left his residential Camelot neighbourhood. There was no traffic on the roads at this hour, and no activity on the streets. That’s why when he saw the shadow of a man walking down the sidewalk, he brought the Smart Car to a screeching halt.

“Merlin?” Arthur called and climbed out of the car.

“Arthur?” Merlin said, his voice ragged.

Arthur stumbled up the curb to meet him, embracing Merlin who seemed to be none worse for wear, Arthur thought. He had to be exhausted at this hour. He didn’t seem drunk.

“Merlin, what happened? You were supposed to be with Gwaine and Elyan. Have you been to see Mordred? Why didn’t you call me?” Arthur couldn’t get the questions out fast enough.

“I would have, Arthur,” Merlin said. “I’m sorry, I would have if I had my mobile.”

Merlin looked at the Smart Car.

“Can you take me to your house?” Merlin asked. “Please?” he added.

“Of course,” Arthur said.

Arthur held the door open for Merlin to enter. He noticed that Merlin wasn’t carrying his ever-present satchel of belongings. He figured he’d have time to ask about it later. Right now he just wanted to get Merlin home.

Uther and Morgana had long been asleep. Arthur was grateful that his bedroom lay at the opposite end of the house from them.

He quietly led Merlin through the kitchen and up the stairs. When the light illuminated Arthur’s room, he finally got a good look at Merlin.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, his fingers gingerly touching Merlin’s scalp where the blood had dried into an unsightly mat.

“I got into a bit of a fight,” Merlin said.

“And you’re limping, is that explained by the fight too?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Merlin said. “I walked. I was walking to your house. It’s all I could do under the circumstances. Do you think I could use your shower now? ” Merlin asked.

“Go ahead,” Arthur said. “But we’re going to put some ice on that knot you’ve got on your head, and I want to know more about where you’ve been, when you’re through.”

Arthur knew he sounded like a parent scolding a petulant child, but he didn’t care. He was concerned about Merlin’s welfare, not to mention that he was just a little in love with him.

He grabbed an extra pair of sleep pants and a T-Shirt that would probably be two sizes too large for Merlin’s narrow frame and sent Merlin into the bathroom.

The water was still running when he returned to his bedroom with some ice cubes wrapped in a tea towel, a couple bottles of water, and yesterday’s leftover tortellini salad with two forks.

He put his things on the bed and knocked softly on the bathroom door.

There was no answer except for the running water.

Arthur turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Merlin?”

He could hear Merlin’s sobs echoing faintly off the shower walls.

Arthur took a deep breath.

“Merlin, come on. It’s time to get out now,” Arthur said.

Merlin turned the water off.

“I know,” he said, stifling a sob. “I’m sorry.”

“Here,” Arthur said. “I’ve got a towel for you.”

Merlin slid the shower curtain open.

Arthur swallowed hard. He held the towel open so Merlin could step into it. When he did, Arthur wrapped him in the warm softness.

They stood there for a moment, Arthur patting his back dry before he wrapped the towel around Merlin’s waist and tucked it into a loose knot below his navel. 

“Come on now,” Arthur said. “Let’s talk about this.”


	20. Chapter 20

“First, I want to look at your head,” Arthur said.

“It hurts, but I think it stopped bleeding,” Merlin sniffed. “Can you tell if it did?”

“Let me see,” Arthur said. “Maybe if you lie down, I can get a better look at it.”

Merlin crawled onto the crimson comforter and lay on his belly. The smooth expanse of his damp narrow back gave way to the towel-clad rise of his curvaceous rump.

“Here, use a pillow,” Arthur said, sliding a pillow under Merlin’s head. Merlin turned his face toward Arthur, his ear pressed to the pillow while Arthur sat on the bed to examine him. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to keep such things elevated anyway.”

Arthur poked gently at the lump that had formed on Merlin’s head. A slight gash had been crusted over by dried blood that had gotten loose in the steamy shower.

“Hold on a minute,” Arthur said.

He got up and went into the loo, returning with a pair of headache tablets, some white cotton gauze, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“I’m afraid that I’m not much of a physician, mate,” Arthur said.

Merlin laughed softly, his cheeks rosy from the hot shower. “Under the circumstances, you’ll do,” he said.

Arthur dabbed the gauze in the peroxide and worked the fine strands of Merlin’s hair away from the wound.

“That’s a nice one,” he breathed, cleaning away the blood. “Does it hurt much?”

“Not as much as when I was getting my head slammed into the floor,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur grimaced and held the gauze fast against Merlin’s head, applying a bit of pressure. “I admire your sunny disposition about the ordeal. It can’t have been funny while it was happening,” Arthur said.

“No,” Merlin said. “That bleeding bit I could have done without.”

Arthur took the gauze away and examined its surface. “The bleeding has definitely stopped. But you’re going to have quite an egg on your head in the morning.” He pulled the shower-damp hair away from the wound and held it in place so it wouldn’t drift into the opening.

“It already is morning,” Merlin said.

“So it is,” said Arthur. He let his fingers linger on Merlin’s head. He found it hard to believe that anyone would ever hurt Merlin. Merlin, who was always so cheerful and ready to pitch in and help with the band. Arthur’s heart broke when he realized that someone did this intentionally to him. It wasn’t just a drunken pub fight where someone says something that sets you both off, you throw a few punches and your mates separate you and sort you out when it’s over. Someone had intentionally set out to harm Merlin.

Arthur reached for a water bottle and cracked the cap open.

“Here you go, love,” he said. “This will help with the swelling.” He handed Merlin the two tablets and the water bottle. He watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed the pills and washed them down.

“You’re very kind to me,” Merlin said.

“Time for some ice,” Arthur smiled. He touched the ice-laden tea towel to Merlin’s head.

Merlin winced slightly.

“Here,” Arthur said. “It will be better if you hold it there yourself. Only you can tell how much pressure is too much on your head.”

Merlin’s hand brushed Arthur’s as he reached for the tea towel.

“Thanks, yes, that works better,” Merlin said as he rolled to his back and held the ice pack to his head.

“Are you hungry? I come bearing leftovers,” Arthur grinned.

“I’m famished,” said Merlin.

Arthur grabbed him a fork and they both tucked into the container of tortellini salad.

Apart from the banana he saw Merlin eat, and a couple slices of pizza at the warehouse, Arthur was surprised to learn that Merlin ate anything at all. When they finished off the container, Arthur took their forks to the kitchen for clean-up and left Merlin to change into his bedclothes.

***

“Why didn’t you call me?” Arthur asked, several minutes later as he sprawled on the bed. Merlin lay in the same position where Arthur had left him, save for the change into Arthur’s too large clothing and the hint of freshly brushed teeth in the air. “You should have called when things got out of hand.”

“By the time I realized just how out of hand they were, I had lost my mobile,” Merlin said, adjusting the ice pack. “Along with everything else.”

“Let me get this straight,” Arthur said. “You went to see Mordred?”

Merlin sighed and looked away. “I know. It was stupid.”

“No… no…” Arthur said. He was desperate to find out what happened that upset Merlin so much. He wanted to touch him, to assure him that he was there for him. But what could he do that wouldn’t seem like a gross violation of his person, which had obviously already suffered so much tonight?

“Your feet,” Arthur said. He slid to the end of the bed.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“You walked all the way from Mordred’s to where I saw you on the sidewalk? That had to be ten kilometres. Your feet must ache,” Arthur said. He let his palm skate along Merlin’s instep. “Can I?”

Merlin gave a soft moan and Arthur took that as an approval. He took Merlin’s foot in both hands and kneaded the firm flesh, still warm from the shower.

Merlin stretched luxuriantly, making little _erm_ noises of pleasure.

“So, can you tell me what happened when you arrived at Mordred’s? Did you go there because you wanted to get back together with him?” Arthur asked as tentatively as he could, his thumbs smoothing circles over the delicate bones.

“Oh, no,” Merlin said. “That wasn’t my intention.” He bit his lip in frustration. “I’m not even sure what my intention was anymore.”

“That’s alright,” Arthur said. “You were very upset.”

“I was surprised he was home,” said Merlin.

“I noticed you were empty-handed when I picked you up,” Arthur said carefully. He skimmed his fingers down the length of Merlin’s sole. “Did you try to get some of your things back?”

“I tried,” Merlin said, his eyes tearing. “He took everything and burnt it.”

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry,” Arthur whispered. He held his hands still against Merlin feet, one in each hand and just breathed for a while, wishing he could take some of Merlin’s pain away.

“Merlin, do you want me to stop touching you?” Arthur asked.

“God, no,” Merlin said. “That feels bloody fantastic.”

Arthur smiled and removed the ring from his forefinger. “Give me your hand,” he said.

Merlin reached toward him with the hand that wasn’t supporting the ice pack. Arthur slipped his ring onto Merlin’s finger. “Keep that safe for me for a bit, would you?” he asked before continuing his ministrations.

“Tell me more about what happened, how did you get that gash on your head?” Arthur asked gently.

“Oh,” Merlin shuddered as he smoothed his thumb along the polished silver. “He had burnt all my things, or so I thought-”

“What kinds of things did he burn?” Arthur asked, kneading each of Merlin’s long pale toes between his thumb and forefinger.

“Important things,” Merlin said. “A picture of my mum, all my money, school papers, everything I had saved in a box.

Merlin’s eyes teared up again. Arthur nearly stopped moving his hands when Merlin told the part about the picture of his mum, knowing how precious those memories of his dead mother were to him.

“He was a sick bastard, Merlin,” Arthur said without changing the rhythm of his hands. “I’m so glad you’re through with him. I couldn’t bear it if he kept hurting you.”

“I am through with him. You’ve got that right,” Merlin snuffled.

“You were very brave to go there, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Did you fight him?”

“Oh, that was the other thing,” Merlin said. “I remembered a scarf I kept in my bedside table. It belonged to my mother. It was nothing really, just a scrap of fabric. I got hold of it and he grabbed it from me and started strangling me with it.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, stilling his hands. He abandoned Merlin’s feet altogether and crawled up the bed so his face hovered over Merlin’s. “Your neck,” he said. “Let me see your neck.”

*** 

“God, Merlin,” Arthur said. He kneeled beside him and gently tilted Merlin’s head from one side to the other, tracing his fingers over the bruised skin. “We should talk to my father in the morning about this.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Merlin whispered.

“You’re not disagreeing, are you?” Arthur asked. He stretched out on the bed and laid his head on his pillow next to Merlin’s, hoping Merlin would agree with him. Feeling bold, he left his palm where it rested on Merlin’s chest.

“I’m not going to argue with you about it,” Merlin said.

“Good. What else?” Arthur asked. “What else did he do to you? Did he hurt you in _other_ ways?” Arthur was sure that Merlin would understand what he meant by his inflection. He held his breath while he waited for Merlin’s answer.

“He tried to,” Merlin said quietly, no mistake in Arthur’s mind that he understood the ramifications of the question.

Arthur was torn between wanting to permit Merlin some freedom of movement by removing his hand from his chest or kissing him senseless so he would forget all about the events that transpired earlier this evening. The warmth of Merlin’s skin beneath Arthur’s hand won Arthur’s favour, so he kept his hand in place, the steady beat of Merlin’s heart beneath his palm. Still, he would be remiss if he didn’t add some bite to his feelings.

“If he ever so much as looks at you again, Merlin,” Arthur’s breath was heated. “I’m going to make him pay.”

Merlin smiled softly. He let go of the tea towel, the ice long since melted into the fibres. He placed his hand over Arthur’s.

Arthur saw the flicker of unbridled passion in his eyes.

He leaned forward to brush his lips against Merlin’s when his mobile rang.

He let out a sigh and reached into his pocket.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, before he even answered the call.

“Gwaine! Shit!” Arthur slid off the bed and held a single finger up to Merlin, hoping he’d get the message that he would only be but a minute.

“I’ve found him. Merlin is with me,” Arthur said.

“Christ, I’ve been everywhere,” Gwaine said. “It’s like he vanished into thin air.”

“He was walking here,” Arthur said. “I know it sounds crazy.”

“Alright then, I’m happy to know he’s safe and sound. Tell the little bugger he had me worried sick, would you?”

“I will, Gwaine, I will,” Arthur said. “Shite, I’m sorry I forgot to call you. There’s a lot going on right now, so much on my mind about the tour, you know.”

“Well, mate, there’s a lot on my mind too. Listen, I was going to let it wait until tomorrow, but since you’re still awake- I was nosing around the warehouse looking for Merlin when who do you think I saw there?”

“I don’t know, Gwaine. Someone in the band?”

“Try the opening band,” said Gwaine. “Cenred. He came out of the warehouse like a boss. I don’t know how he would have gotten a key. The lock wasn’t broken. I laid low, didn’t see the sense in calling the police on him as it was just him by his lonesome.”

“What would he have been doing in our warehouse?” Arthur wondered out loud.

“I don’t know,” said Gwaine. “After he left, I went inside and took a look around. It didn’t look like anything had been touched.”

“Alright,” Arthur said. “Thanks for letting me know. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow and decide how we want to approach it.”

“You mean today?” Gwaine laughed.

“I guess so,” Arthur said looking at the ticking clock. “Gwaine, let’s put off today’s rehearsal. I think we all need some more sleep after tonight. You can tell the others, but I definitely won’t be in until late afternoon.”

“Alright mate, sleep well,” said Gwaine.

“You too,” Arthur said, ending the call.

Arthur silenced his mobile and stripped off his clothes. He brushed his teeth and slipped on a soft T-Shirt and a pair of boxers.

At the bedside where Merlin softly snored, he took the tea towel out of his hand and set it on the nightstand. With the lights dimmed, he pulled the quilt off the futon and spread it over Merlin’s tired body, curling up next to him while he slept.


	21. Chapter 21

Arthur dreamed of Merlin again, a frequent nocturnal experience as it was getting to be. This time they stood high on the castle’s ramparts, overlooking Albion, the kingdom they ruled together. Old men, by today’s standards, Merlin’s hair speckled with the white dust of age and Arthur growing fatigued more quickly as he climbed the tower staircase. They ruled together nonetheless, although it was Arthur who wore the crown, because a crown could only be forged by men, the sleek gold shaped by the most skilled of craftsmen who bent nature’s metals and ores to their will and cut the gemstones into their desired radiances.

Merlin would say that he wanted no part of ruling over men, their ways of war too savage for even the most fierce of his kind. In time, Arthur convinced him otherwise, having long learned that it took a complete ruler to govern successfully over all the lands. That completion was only possible when man saw the wisdom in sometimes refusing to bend nature to his will, and bent himself to nature’s will instead.

Kilgharrah, the mighty dragon, had told them long ago that they were two sides of the same coin and so they ruled as such, together, side by side, one’s existence impossible without the other.

“Two sides of the same coin, mmmph,” Arthur mumbled. “Two sides of the same coin.”

He was taken aback when he opened his eyes to see Merlin’s eyes open at nearly the same time.

The afternoon sun had filtered through the shades on Arthur’s windows and bathed the room in a soft glow. He had no idea how long they had been sleeping, but he was quite content to stay exactly where he was, with one arm pinned under his pillow and the other wrapped firmly around Merlin. His legs… well… he wasn’t sure where his legs ended and Merlin’s began. One thing he did know was that while his cock was as hard as it usually was upon waking, it pleasantly nudged against Merlin’s pyjama-clad thigh, giving him a warm tingly feeling all over. If Merlin minded, he didn’t complain or jerk his hips out of the way. And if Arthur wasn’t mistaken, that was Merlin’s cock beneath the pyjamas, insistently nudging his naked leg below the hem of his boxers.

“What are you talking about?” whispered Merlin.

“I was having a dream,” Arthur said. “A dream about you.”

“Was it a good dream?” Merlin asked, his voice daring.

“The best,” said Arthur, pulling Merlin closer. He let his palm rub circles over his old T-Shirt, feeling the knobs of Merlin’s spine beneath the soft fabric.

“I used to dream,” Merlin started.

Arthur felt Merlin’s arms tighten around him.

“I used to dream… before,” Merlin clarified. “That I had a different life.”

Arthur couldn’t help but notice the blush spreading across Merlin’s cheeks. It made him grin to see Merlin, who was in the throes of despair in the wee hours of this morning, acting so coy with him now.

“What was it like?” Arthur asked. He flexed his toes a bit just to make sure he could still feel Merlin’s legs entwined with his.

Merlin’s voice grew impossibly softer. “When I’d be… you know… doing my chores, or just trying to stay out of trouble when I used to be afraid… of him… I’d imagine a place where there was music.”

Merlin lowered his lashes and drew his chin closer to Arthur’s chest.

“Tell me about the place,” Arthur asked. “What was it like there?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin giggled shyly.

“Tell me,” Arthur said, sliding his hand up Merlin’s back until his fingers could play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay,” Merlin said. “I used to imagine that I had someone nice to come home to, someone nicer than Mordred.”

Arthur lifted his head so his mouth was right at Merlin’s ear. “From what you’ve told me, that wouldn’t take too much imagination,” he whispered.

Merlin laughed. “I shouldn’t have told you,” he said, his eyes crinkling.

Arthur’s fingers threaded through Merlin’s hair, ever so carefully so he didn’t disturb the healing wound.

“I’m glad you told me,” Arthur whispered. “Tell me more.”

***

“When Mordred was mean to me… when he wouldn’t let me eat… and things like that,” Merlin said, catching Arthur’s eye.

“Merlin?” Arthur said, his voice tinged with fury. It made him so angry to think that Merlin had stayed with this clotpole for two years.

“If you don’t want me to tell you about it, I won’t,” said Merlin, pushing himself up on one elbow.

“No,” Arthur said, untucking his hand from beneath his pillow so he could use both hands to soothe Merlin’s back, getting him to relax again. “I just wish you knew better than to stay with him.”

“I’m sorry,” said Merlin, nuzzling closer. “I thought things would get better, and it’s not like I had much of a choice either.”

“Hush,” said Arthur. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I didn’t recognise what he was doing to you sooner. That black eye you had… he did that to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Merlin answered.

“You know I’m serious about getting my father involved, don’t you?” Arthur said. He knew he needed to remind Merlin that what Mordred did was wrong and that there were consequences for his actions if he pursued them.

“I know,” Merlin said. “I’m glad you’ll help me.”

“We’ll sort this out, Merlin. You don’t have to be alone,” Arthur said. He traced a half-circle beneath Merlin’s eye where the bruise had been. “Of course I’ll help you.”

Arthur couldn’t get his mind off the things that Mordred had done to Merlin. He felt powerless to stop the abuse when it was happening right under his nose. He could only imagine how Merlin felt.

“You were trying to get away?” Arthur asked.

“That’s why I took the job with the band. I was saving my money, so I could escape him,” Merlin said.

“You were very brave, Merlin,” Arthur said touching his forehead to Merlin’s. “Really, I don’t know many people who would have been so bold.”

They simply lay there for moments on end, the ticking of Arthur’s wind-up alarm clock marking the seconds between day and night.

“Tell me more about your nice dreams,” Arthur said. “What else did you dream about when you were longing to escape?”

The question brought a smile to Merlin’s face and he seemed to become shy again.

“Tell me,” Arthur laughed, bringing his fingers from Merlin’s back to just below his ribs where he knew a giggle couldn’t be contained.

“Okay! I’ll tell you more. No need to brutalize me further,” Merlin grinned.

Arthur slid his hand to the small of Merlin’s back, urging him to continue.

“I’d dream that when I arrived home, my lover would kiss me and tell me that I’m beautiful,” Merlin said, barely making the words audible before burying his face in the pillow, so Arthur sensed how real this dream was to Merlin.

“Didn’t Mordred ever tell you were beautiful?” Arthur asked, trying to test the degree of scepticism on both their parts.

“Yes, he did,” Merlin said. “It seems like it was a long time ago.”

“Well, there you go,” said Arthur patting Merlin’s back, trying to reassure himself, more than anything that everything couldn’t have always been that bad between the two of them, although he’d be damned if he was going to see Mordred vindicated.

“Then he took it back,” Merlin said sadly.

“What do you mean, took it back? You can’t take such a thing back,” Arthur said incredulously.

“Well, he did,” Merlin said. “Said I was ugly, made fun of my pasty skin, made fun of my ears.”

Arthur laughed softly. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said.

Arthur searched Merlin’s face, but saw no indication otherwise. 

“I think you’re beautiful, Merlin,” Arthur said. And Arthur finally got to finish what was interrupted by Gwaine’s phone call in the early hours of morning.

He brushed his lips against Merlin’s and felt Merlin’s breath on his mouth. He swept his tongue across Merlin’s lips, their lush rose petal softness parting at Arthur’s insistence. Inside, Arthur melted at the touch of Merlin’s tongue against his. Merlin tasted of minty toothpaste, hours-old tortellini salad, and… and… well, it must have been the ale that Merlin had drunk in the tavern with Gwaine and Elyan. Either that, or Merlin had an awful case of morning breath, but Arthur didn’t give a shit. He was about to dive in for seconds when he heard the knock on his door.

***

“Oh God,” Arthur whispered. “It’s my father!”

Merlin leapt out of bed, adjusted himself, and threw the quilt onto the futon.

“Who’s there?” Arthur asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“It’s your father, Arthur,” Uther’s voice bellowed. “If it was Morgana, she would have barged in, no doubt.”

“Father,” Arthur yelled. “I’ll be right there.”

“I’m okay,” Merlin said. “I think I look okay. You! You! Fix yourself,” he squealed, indicating Arthur’s crotch.

Arthur got the message and yanked a pillow off the bed to use as a shield as he answered the door.

“Yes, father,” Arthur said in a voice so calm it could have earned him an Academy Award. “We were just talking about you.”

Uther stepped into the room, looking just slightly suspicious.

Merlin waved at him from the futon. “Hello, Mr. Pendragon. You remember me, Arthur’s vagabond friend, Merlin.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Uther. “Perhaps one of you boys can explain to me why I just arrived home after putting in a full day of work seeing to it that the citizens of Camelot are safe when you two look like you both just rolled out of bed? Is this part of your _band persona_ that I don’t want to know about?”

Arthur stepped forward. He held his hand up to Merlin, in a signal that meant _let me do the talking._ His other hand clutched the pillow to his groin.

“In fact, we can explain just that, father. We have an issue to resolve and we believe it is a police matter,” Arthur said confidently. “Perhaps if you give us both a few minutes to put some clothes on, we can discuss it in the kitchen.”

“Very well, then,” Uther said. He turned to leave, but before he did, he held up a finger to Arthur and said. “Do not keep me waiting.”

No sooner was Uther out of earshot than did Merlin and Arthur burst into laughter.

“Oh, God, I’m going to be in so much trouble,” Arthur said. He dug into a drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans. Digging even further back into the drawer’s cavernous confines, he pulled out another pair and pressed them to Merlin’s chest. “Here, these might fit you,” he said.

Merlin reached for the jeans, but Arthur grabbed hold of his wrist and tugged it around his waist.

“I mean it, Merlin,” Arthur said into his ear before nibbling at his jawline, mindful to not leave a mark on the pale skin so that the bruises of his near-strangulation could be documented as evidence. “You don’t have to be alone.”


	22. Chapter 22

Uther paced back and forth in front of the kitchen table, his hands clasped behind his back, expression stern. “So, let me get this _straight-_ ”

“ _Right,_ father. Get it _right_ ,” Arthur was obviously growing impatient with the double entendres. Turning to Merlin, who sat beside him at the table, he said, “He doesn’t understand what he’s saying. He means no offense, truly.”

“Try not to worry about it, yeah,” Merlin said. He nudged his foot against Arthur’s, thinking it was he who needed to lighten up a little on his father, who was doing his best to make sense of the situation.

It was humiliating enough that Merlin had to tell Uther about all the cruel things Mordred had done to him the night before, but now Uther wanted to issue a restraining order and take photographs of Merlin’s head injury and the bruises on his neck. Uther’s laptop sat on the table, the screen displaying all the information he had told Uther in the confines of the Pendragon kitchen. 

God, was it only yesterday that he was sipping his pint while Gwaine and Elyan crawled all over each other?

If he could go back in time, he’d change everything. He’d not have put up with Mordred’s shit in the first place, and he certainly wouldn’t have tried to forge a truce with him, or gone alone to try to collect his belongings from the flat.

“You did nothing to provoke this _Mordred’s_ attack? I am disinclined to believe you,” Uther said. “But perhaps I am not the best arbiter of such things, considering I haven’t had a wife in some years or, needless to say, a domestic partner as _you people_ call it nowadays.”

“Father, you can’t blame your lack of empathy on the fact that you haven’t had a wife since mother’s death,” Arthur interjected.

Merlin patted Arthur’s arm. “He’s not entirely off base,” said Merlin. “Not many people would understand.”

“You should see a doctor,” Uther said. “I’m going to have a warrant issued for Mordred’s arrest, based on your injuries and what you’ve told me here. I’ll need you to go down to the station to sign the paperwork, tomorrow at the latest, and if you have an attorney, you’ll want to be in touch.”

Merlin sighed. This was a lot scarier than he thought it would be when he was lying in bed with Arthur and they came to the decision that Arthur would tell his father the whole thing about Merlin and Mordred and why there was suddenly another lodger in the Pendragon house.

Well, Arthur didn’t tell Uther the _whole_ thing at least, or else Merlin doubted he’d still be sitting here talking civilly with the man whose son he wanted to debauch.

“And you’ll want to find a therapist,” Uther added.

“But there’s nothing wrong with him,” Arthur protested.

“It’s alright,” Merlin said, his hand patting Arthur’s arm again.

“It’s for his own good,” said Uther. “It will help to speak to someone who is trained to listen to these issues. I’m certain that there’s hope that a victim will not find himself in the same position again.”

Uther typed a few more words into the laptop and hit the _send_ key with a flourish. Clearly he felt proud of himself for doing his duty to keep the residents of Camelot free from dangerous boyfriends.

“And if that will be all,” Uther said. “I’ll leave you two to sort out the photography.”

When Uther left the room, Merlin sighed audibly and pillowed his head on his arms.

“I’m so glad that part’s over with,” he said.

Arthur gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze and whispered in his ear. “I think it’s a good start.”

“What about the pictures?” Merlin asked. “I don’t want anyone to see this.”

“We should take pictures before the bruises fade,” said Arthur. “I can do it with my mobile. No one will have to know.”

“Okay,” Merlin said, not entirely sure of himself, but feeling better about it because of Arthur volunteering to take the shots and not some doctor or crime scene investigator.

“BRB,” Arthur said, letting his fingers trail over Merlin’s back as he left the room.

***

Arthur returned with the mobile and dragged Merlin to his feet.

“There’ll be more light on the deck,” Arthur said, tugging Merlin’s hand and leading him out the sliding glass door.

Merlin stood in the sunshine. He shivered when Arthur traced a finger down the side of his neck. It was a good kind of shiver, he thought- instead of one brought on by fear that he was going to get hit or hurt. First, they took pictures of the gash on top of his head, then they worked on the bruises to his neck.

“Maybe if I tilt my head to the side, it’ll show up better?” Merlin suggested.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Arthur said.

Merlin felt Arthur slide his fingers into his hair to hold it out of the way while he snapped the photos with his other hand. 

Neither of them said a word while the camera on Arthur’s mobile clicked away, documenting the damage that Mordred had done.

“Just one more,” Arthur said.

Merlin didn’t hear the camera click while he looked toward the sun, but there was no mistaking the soft sucking sound of Arthur’s mouth on his neck when the picture-taking had ended. He squirmed to get away at first, but when he felt Arthur’s hand in his hair pulling him closer, he gave in and leaned his head back for Arthur to nibble to his heart’s content on the sensitive skin.

When Arthur began humping his leg like a dog, Merlin protested loudly.

“Your father is going to see us,” he laughed. “Or Morgana will.”

“Let them,” Arthur said. He wrapped his arms around his waist and slid his hands into the back pockets of Merlin’s jeans, pulling him closer. “You know, I’m still quite stunned by my father’s reaction to your story. I’ve never seen him act so _human_ toward anyone before.”

“Maybe that’s a good sign. You’re seeing a different side of him. You think he might support your wanting to tour after all?” Merlin asked.

“I’m not sure. It was just very _different_ to see him looking out for a person’s interests. Probably because I’m in so much denial about him looking after mine,” Arthur said, pressing his forehead against Merlin’s.

“We promised we’d meet Gwaine and the guys at the warehouse. It’s getting late,” Merlin said without making any effort to remove his fingers from where they were tangled in Arthur’s hair.

“You’re right,” said Arthur. “We’re going to make it short and sweet, though. No rehearsing at all tonight.”

“Then tomorrow night will be the final run-through?” Merlin asked.

“Then, it’ll be opening night,” Arthur said excitedly.

“I can hardly wait,” Merlin said.

After one more stolen kiss, they climbed into the Smart Car and drove to the warehouse. On the way, Arthur dialled Gwaine to get a head count for pizza, calling in the order while he wove through rush hour traffic.

He filled Merlin in on his conversation with Gwaine that took place while he was asleep. Merlin had no idea what Cenred could be up to with his infiltration of The Knight’s rehearsal space, but he agreed that it was best to keep their eyes peeled for any malicious activities from The Black Zigzags’ camp.

Arthur also reminded Merlin that he still had to address the Nimueh issue with his father. It seemed that Arthur’s fear of his father’s reaction to the midwife moonlighting as a background singer was nearly as strong as Merlin’s fear of Mordred.

Merlin slid the pizza boxes under the corrugated door and rolled beneath it in time to be greeted by Gwaine and Elyan who gave him shit about taking off early the night before. He had to promise to never let it happen again and he assured them that he had learned his lesson. He was grateful that no one noticed the bruises on his neck or the way Arthur had artfully fluffed his hair to conceal the bump on his head.

After Arthur gave his huge important speech about tomorrow night being the final chance to rehearse before opening night, the bandmates gave Arthur an excited rally cry of “With you!” and soon dispersed to engage in other activities: snogging for Lance and Gwen, snogging for Gwaine and Elyan, snogging for Leon and Percy, and Merlin and Arthur wishing they were snug in Arthur’s bed where they too could snog.

***

Merlin tapped his foot to the beat of the song that played on the CD as Arthur drove them home. 

Home was a relative concept to Merlin, who had basically been adrift since dropping out of uni. Although he had settled into a routine with Mordred, the feeling of calling Mordred’s flat a home had become obsolete faster than you could learn to play the _Smoke on the Water_ riff.

He watched the streetlights play over Arthur’s face as he drove the now familiar roads leading them to the Camelot neighbourhood that Arthur called home. Had it only been three weeks that he knew Arthur? It seemed impossible with all that had transpired in just that meagre span of days. It seemed like they had known each other for a lifetime.

A twinge of worry crept into Merlin’s mind. Worry that he was rushing into things when he let Arthur kiss him. He tried to stuff it down, bury it somewhere deep where it wouldn’t rise to the surface and spoil his newly won and hard fought joy.

As if Arthur knew what he was thinking, he reached over and slipped his hand into Merlin’s.

Merlin smiled and squeezed Arthur’s hand.

Christ, he didn’t even know Arthur was gay until twenty-four hours ago. How had he missed the fact that there were so few groupies for this band full of hot guys? Excepting Lancelot, who was watched over by Gwen like a T-Bone being guarded by a Pit Bull, the band members were all involved with their respective partners and had little to no interest in the opposite sex. How the hell were they going to make it playing to crowds of females who wanted nothing better than to get into their pants? Well, it worked for Adam Lambert, Merlin supposed.

Arthur pulled the Smart Car into the driveway and they went inside.

There was giggling and fumbling with the key as Arthur tried to find the lock, Merlin grabbing the key ring and trying it himself, their four uncooperative hands making the task nearly impossible.

Damn it all if Morgana wasn’t waiting up for them when they finally gained entry.

She leaned against the kitchen island, pretending to thumb through a copy of Velvet Rocks.

“What are you doing home so early?” Arthur asked.

“I heard someone had a late night last night,” she smirked at Merlin, or so it seemed, from behind her magazine.

“What’s it to you?” Arthur asked.

“I waited up so I could thank you,” Morgana said leaving her magazine on the island and pulling Arthur in for a hug. “I’m so glad you were able to find a place for Nimueh.”

Arthur raised his hands in surrender. “Just doing what I can to help,” he said.

“Oh, you might want to break the news to Uther though,” Morgana said. “I’d hate to think of him finding out when he attends the opening night if your performance, if he decides to go at all.”

“Let’s go, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I refuse to let this witch spoil my evening.”

Merlin followed Arthur down the hall and up the stairs. He could swear he heard Morgana cackling after them.

Once they shut Arthur’s bedroom door behind them, the friendly façade fell away and the guardedness they used in front of their friends no longer had a purpose.


	23. Chapter 23

“I’m sorry. It’s as if she was waiting for us,” Arthur said, his back hitting the door when Merlin turned and crowded him in the bedroom’s entrance.

The room was instantly illuminated by the automatic lighting. Arthur reached behind his back to turn the latch that locked the door.

“Try not to let her bother you,” Merlin said, letting his hands roam the front of Arthur’s Def Leppard T-Shirt. He kicked off his trainers and moved closer. “You’ll get it sorted out with your father soon enough.”

“I know,” Arthur sighed. “I couldn’t wait for the pizza to be eaten and for the meeting to disperse, and then we had to run into her- and not another word from you about my father tonight.” Arthur stilled Merlin’s hands, and slid them around his waist instead, wanting to slow him down a bit. Make no mistake, the feeling of Merlin’s palms slowly skimming Arthur’s pecs thrilled him to no end, but he tried to remember that Merlin was not long out of his horrible experience with Mordred. The last thing Arthur wanted was to be _that_ guy… that _rebound_ guy that Merlin might turn to in his anguish over his breakup, only to end things a few fun weeks later. He didn’t want that, and he was pretty sure that Merlin didn’t want that either.

With bare feet, Merlin was as tall as Arthur exactly, Arthur mused. He ran the back of his knuckles across Merlin’s cheek.

“How is that bump on your head feeling tonight?” he asked.

“Not too bad, since I had a lovely man to look after it for me,” Merlin said, tightening his arms around Arthur.

“Really? Well, you’re in luck tonight then, because that very same man is at your service to look after you again,” Arthur said.

Merlin leaned into Arthur’s hand, rubbing his head against his knuckles the way a cat would plead to have its ears scratched.

“I’m very lucky to have him,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur watched Merlin’s eyes flicker over his face. He felt naked, like Merlin could read every emotion in his eyes or in the quirk of his lips. He was surprised that he didn’t mind being exposed. At the same time that he let his guard down, it felt right to Arthur, no matter what had gone on before with Elena or Vivian or even Sophia.

It was alright because this was Merlin. Beautiful Merlin. Trusting Merlin. 

And now that Arthur had Merlin’s trust, he swore he’d be careful with it.

It killed Arthur to think of someone hurting Merlin, who loved with all his heart. Never would Arthur do anything to harm him, the way Mordred did. In fact, he’d only do what pleased Merlin, although Arthur was a bit worried that he didn’t know what he was doing at all.

“Tell me, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, brushing his thumb over Merlin’s lower lip. “Whatever you want, this man is prepared to do your bidding.”

“Kiss me,” Merlin simply said.

Arthur slid his hand to Merlin’s neck, mindful of the bruises there. He cupped the back of Merlin’s head and drew him closer so their mouths pressed together. Merlin’s lips were as soft and lush as they had been in the early hours of the same morning.

Arthur closed his eyes while Merlin licked into his mouth, sliding his tongue across his teeth and teasing Arthur’s tongue to do the same. He felt Merlin’s hands lift the hem of his shirt and slide underneath, his long fingers tracing over every muscle and contour of Arthur’s back.

Arthur gasped and moved his lips to Merlin’s throat. Merlin tilted his head while Arthur pressed kisses there before scraping his teeth along Merlin’s jawline and taking his mouth with his lips again.

When their mouths broke apart, Merlin said, “Come on.” A surge of passion rose from Arthur’s toes to the tips of his ears when Merlin took his hands and pressed his lips to them, spinning him so he was walking backwards. He stopped when the backs of his knees hit the bed.

*** 

Arthur still needed to take his trainers off, so he sat on the edge of the bed and toed at each one without bothering to untie them.

Before Arthur knew what was happening, Merlin was standing in the open space between Arthur’s knees, twining his hands softly through Arthur’s hair. As Arthur saw it, he had a choice. He could either manhandle Merlin onto the bed from this position, or he could just go with the flow and let Merlin call the shots. Never before was Arthur one to give up his powers to others, (especially Gwaine), but in this case, it seemed to be the right thing to do.

His mouth was level with Merlin’s belly, so he nosed at the borrowed shirt, savouring the scent of Merlin there. He slid his hands underneath and brushed his fingers over the soft hairs that surrounded Merlin’s navel.

Merlin must have liked that, because he moaned in approval and leaned on Arthur until Arthur got the message and fell onto his back, taking Merlin with him.

Arthur’s body arched against Merlin as he pressed him into the soft mattress. Every bit of him seemed to be aching for Merlin to touch him more. His hands cupped Merlin’s arse as he straddled him, their mouths engaged in a slow kiss.

Soon Merlin was tugging at his shirt and Arthur shoved his hands up the back of Merlin’s shirt, stripping it over his head while they kissed. He dropped it onto the floor and proceeded to tug his own shirt off, casting it aside.

“Let me look at you,” Arthur said, his voice hoarse with lust. He ran his hands over Merlin’s pale torso, his fingers tickling through the smattering of dark hair that decorated his chest.

Merlin hummed adorably and hitched his hips against Arthur’s, their cocks rubbing against each other’s through the fabric of their jeans.

Arthur wanted to speak. He wanted to tell Merlin how beautiful he was, how perfect he was, how he was going to come right this second if Merlin kept grinding into him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and nudged Merlin onto his side, where he slid next to him, their legs slotting together comfortably.

The feel of Merlin’s bare chest against Arthur’s sent a heated wave of passion through him. He claimed Merlin’s mouth again, relishing the soft lips that parted beneath his tongue. He wondered if he should dim the lights to make the room a little more romantic for Merlin’s sake. But since Merlin was now working his way down Arthur’s body, pressing soft kisses into his neck, across his chest, on his nipples, he decided the lighting was fine just the way it was.

Merlin leaned over and whispered in Arthur’s ear, “Can I take these off?” He tugged at the waistband of Arthur’s jeans.

Arthur nodded that he could. He dug his fingers into the crimson comforter while Merlin deftly unbuttoned him with one hand.

Each time a button was undone, the pleasure of Merlin’s hand brushing against his swollen cock was nearly unbearable. Damn buttonflys! Arthur lifted his arse off the bed for Merlin to push his jeans down, along with his boxers to free his aching cock. He kicked the jeans the rest of the way off and listened to them fall to the floor. Merlin looked at Arthur admiringly and then sidled up to his face again and took his head in his hands. After pressing their mouths together for a lingering kiss, Merlin drew back and whispered against Arthur’s lips, “Can I touch you?”

“God, yes,” Arthur’s voice was a whimper. He hoped he wasn’t embarrassing himself, but so far, this evening had already been everything he could have imagined. He was here with Merlin. Merlin was safe. And that was all that mattered. Things only got better when Merlin wrapped his hand around Arthur’s cock and stroked him until he writhed with pleasure. Arthur gripped Merlin’s shoulders and moaned through his kisses, needing more of Merlin touching him until he reached the point of no return, spilling in pulses over Merlin’s long fingers and onto the crimson comforter.

Merlin kissed his forehead. Arthur could only pant until his heartbeat returned to normal.

***

“You,” Arthur said, when he could finally speak somewhat normally again.

Merlin must have understood what he meant, because he knelt on the bed and shucked the jeans he had borrowed from Arthur. The jeans easily fell off his narrow hips without their zipper having to be undone. Merlin devilishly went commando beneath and Arthur was briefly reminded that they should probably take a shopping trip to the mall if they weren’t able to retrieve Merlin’s clothing from the flat. Arthur’s thoughts turned quickly back to the matter at hand, which was this gorgeous creature who was taking his clothes off for Arthur’s eyes only to enjoy.

“God, you’re beautiful, Merlin,” Arthur whispered. He traced a line from between Merlin’s nipples, over his soft belly, through the coarse hair to his elegant erect cock. “And I’m not just saying that because you wanted someone to say it.”

Merlin grinned softly. He ruffled Arthur’s hair with a gentle hand. “I believe you,” he said.

Arthur reached out and slid his fingers under Merlin’s balls, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin there. Merlin moaned happily, bucking his hips as his cock strained for some of Arthur’s attention.

Arthur pressed down on Merlin’s shoulder, drawing him down so they were side by side again. He curled his hand around Merlin’s cock and stripped it in long strokes. It wasn’t difficult at all to do. In fact, it was much like doing it to himself. The difference was the glorious moans and sounds that he elicited from Merlin by doing it. Arthur watched Merlin try valiantly to maintain eye contact with him as he stroked. He hitched a bare leg around Merlin’s and nudged himself closer.

Arthur was immensely proud of himself when Merlin’s mouth fell open and he had to close his eyes finally so he could shudder beneath Arthur’s hand, his release pulsing out in ribbons that painted the comforter, Arthur’s hand, and his naked stomach.

Arthur smiled and kissed the top of Merlin’s head.

Merlin tilted his head back and scooted closer so they could enjoy more kissing, his fingers roaming through Arthur’s hair.

Arthur trapped Merlin’s earlobe between his lips. He licked gently at the soft skin, making Merlin’s dark lashes flutter. 

Merlin leaned into Arthur, lowering his head to the base of Arthur’s neck and pressing soft sucking kisses into the skin before running his tongue over his Adam’s apple. Arthur shuddered at the sensation, his fingers digging into the bedding to avoid laughing.

Soon, Merlin said, “I’ll get us a rag to clean up, yeah?”

He left the bed and Arthur listened to the water running in the loo.

When Merlin returned, he dragged the warm cloth over Arthur’s stomach and tenderly wiped the residue from Arthur’s hand until it was clean.

When Merlin turned to drop the rag onto the floor with their other laundry, Arthur curiously reached out and traced a scar on Merlin’s hip with his forefinger. It looked like a bright star against Merlin’s pale skin.

Arthur’s eyebrows narrowed in question, but Merlin pressed a finger against his lips and whispered, “I’ll tell you about it later.”


	24. Chapter 24

Arthur slept a dreamless sleep, wrapped up in Merlin’s arms as the little spoon. The only way he knew morning had arrived came from the warm press of Merlin’s lips on his back. Arthur moaned happily at the sensation, but when he reached for Merlin, there was only the cool air that replaced Merlin when he got out of bed.

“What?” Arthur asked, his voice clogged with sleep. “Where are you going?”

Merlin leaned across the bed. “I’ll be right back,” Merlin said, his soft breath in Arthur’s ear.

Arthur dozed in his half-sleep. He was barely aware of the mattress dipping when Merlin climbed back onto the bed.

A few stray notes of the guitar strings drifted through the air as Merlin wordlessly tuned the instrument.

Merlin sat cross-legged beside Arthur. Arthur could feel Merlin’s bony knee pressing into his back.

“Mmm, you’re going to serenade me?” Arthur asked, rolling over to look at him.

“Going to try,” Merlin said, his tongue poking between his lips in concentration as he twisted the pegs and listened.

Arthur smoothed his hand up Merlin’s back, the skin still sleep-warm. Whatever Merlin was doing by jumping out of bed first thing to grab Arthur’s guitar, Arthur sensed it was very important to Merlin. He was more than happy to play along with his plan. He rubbed Merlin’s back slowly, letting his fingers explore each knob of his spine on the downstroke.

“Ready?” Merlin asked. “I don’t know if this is going to be any good.”

Arthur wanted to chuck a pillow at his head.

“Merlin, you’re so bloody sweet, I doubt you could do _anything_ that I’d think was awful,” Arthur said.

“You’re clearly delirious,” Merlin laughed. “And your father says _I_ need therapy.”

With that, Merlin began to strum the instrument, the soft chords floating through the bedroom, quiet enough to be private between the two of them, but loud enough to be heard without the need for an amplifier.

“I’ll spare you from having to hear me sing,” Merlin smiled, his fingers focused on producing a lovely melody from the frets and strings. 

“Go ahead, if you’d like,” Arthur said, not wanting to speak for fear of interrupting his playing. As it was, Arthur was rather dumbstruck by Merlin’s abilities with the guitar. He turned onto his side and plumped up his pillow so he could see over Merlin’s knee. He wrapped an arm casually around Merlin’s hips and listened.

“I wouldn’t want you to worry that you had more competition as a lead vocalist,” Merlin laughed as he played.

Arthur rolled his eyes at that and playfully smacked Merlin on the arse. As soon as he did it, he regretted it, remembering that Merlin had come down a different road than he had before they ended up in bed together. Merlin continued to fill the air with music, his skilful fingers skimming over the strings, so Arthur understood that Merlin knew no offence was intended. He gently rubbed the spot where his slap had landed in a silent apology. The feeling that Arthur might instil fear in Merlin was something that Arthur would worry about for all their days, but for now, Arthur could simply enjoy the trust that Merlin bestowed upon him.

When Merlin finished the piece, Arthur gave him a round of applause before pulling him down for a soft kiss.

“You’re really quite good,” Arthur said. “And for not having any practice in so long… Merlin, you must have been brilliant before.”

“I think I was pretty good,” Merlin said.

“Why did you stop?” Arthur asked, tracing a finger across Merlin’s knee.

“I was angry at the world when my mum died,” Merlin sighed. “Mordred found me. He didn’t encourage it. It just fell away.”

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur.

“Well, it looks like I’ve got a bit of it back now,” said Merlin happily, putting the guitar back in its stand.

Merlin’s smile was dazzling. Arthur dragged him into the shower with him, where they offered each other pointers on the best amount of pressure and slick to ensure that each of their mornings started off on the right foot. When they were both dizzy with pleasure and the water ran cold, they dressed and joined Uther at the breakfast table. 

*** 

“Ah, boys,” Uther said, glancing up from his laptop. “It’s good to see you here.”

“Good morning, father. I hope you have good news about Merlin’s assailant,” Arthur said. He shot Merlin a kind wink and grabbed two mugs from the buffet. “Coffee, Merlin?”

“Yes, please,” Merlin said to Arthur. He took a seat across from Uther, saying, “I’m anxious to learn if anything has moved forward since yesterday.”

“I plan to take Merlin to the station on our way to the Avalon this morning so he can sign the paperwork you mentioned,” Arthur said to Uther. He placed one steaming mug of coffee next to Merlin and the other in front of an empty chair which he pulled out and took himself.

Uther closed the lid on his laptop. “In fact, we have some disturbing news,” he said.

Arthur glanced at Merlin, his breath caught in his throat. He wished he could hold Merlin’s hand or embrace him when Uther delivered this so-called _disturbing news._ Instead, he rationalized that the news may not be all that disturbing to them, if Mordred were found dead or maimed, for example. Arthur could only hope. He nudged Merlin’s sock-clad foot with his own and left his toes in contact with Merlin’s. That would have to suffice for soothing his lover in front of his father at the breakfast table this morning.

Merlin looked like a deer caught in headlights. “What did you find?” he asked.

“Mordred has left Camelot,” Uther said. “I sent a team of detectives to question him. When they arrived, the flat was being emptied by a salvage operation. Of course we put an immediate halt to that, and contacted the landlord. It seems Mordred paid his rent and told the landlord he was leaving town and that he no longer needed to rent from her. She had his signed permission to dispose of what belongings he left there. I’m glad we stepped in when we did.”

Arthur wiggled his toes. “Well, that’s a good thing, right?” He passed Merlin a bowl and selected a box of cereal from the assortment in the centre of the table. “If he moved away, he won’t be able to bother you anymore.”

Uther and Merlin both simultaneously said, “No!”

Uther pursed his lips and looked at Merlin. Arthur’s gaze went from Merlin to Uther and back to Merlin. Why did it seem like they were on the same wavelength when Arthur was left out?

“I fear that Merlin is in greater danger than ever,” said Uther.

“But why?” asked Arthur, pouring the milk over his flakes and passing the cereal to Merlin.

“What if he’s going to kill me for pressing charges?” asked Merlin.

“Now, Merlin, try not to get to upset. Remember that I have my top people working on this. There are some benefits in being a friend to my son,” Uther said.

Arthur thought he saw Merlin roll his eyes as if to say, “Don’t I know it.”

“Of course you’re welcome to stay here until this matter is sorted out,” Uther said. “And for God’s sake Arthur, you can let him use a guest room instead of sleeping on that ratty futon.”

Arthur nearly choked on his cereal, but managed to say, “Yes, sir.”

“What about my clothes? Can I at least get my clothes back if they’re still there?” Merlin asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Right now, we have to consider the flat a crime scene. Give us some time,” Uther said.

“Thanks, I will,” said Merlin tucking into his cereal. “I really appreciate it.”

Uther reached into his pocket for his mobile. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I have a photograph of a piece of evidence that may concern you. I recall that you told me it had some sentimental value.” He punched some buttons on the device and handed it across the table to Merlin.

Arthur leaned over to see what the picture displayed.

Merlin turned the phone in his palm to show it to Arthur.

“It’s the scarf my mum made for me,” Merlin said excitedly. “Will I be able to get it back?”

Uther nodded. “Yes, as soon as we’re done with the investigation and Mordred is brought to justice."

***

Arthur and Merlin spent the rest of the morning running errands. It was hard for Arthur to believe that today was the final rehearsal before the opening night of The Round Table Tour. They were set to meet at The Avalon Theatre when all the instruments and gear were moved to the stage from the warehouse, something Merlin arranged with a simple phone call.

The more Arthur thought about it, Merlin was doing a terrific job as their roadie. All he had to do was hang out with the guys and know his stuff about electricity. It didn’t hurt that he was good at handling logistics and all that other kinds of stuff Arthur had no idea about. Merlin could talk anyone into doing just about anything for him, and he used that skill to his advantage- and The Knights’ advantage too. Maybe he ought to let Merlin handle telling his father that Nimueh was singing back-up with the band, a task that Arthur had yet again managed to put off for another day. 

He took Merlin to the police station first to sign his statements about what Mordred had done to him. While Merlin spoke to a special Domestic Violence Unit officer, Arthur waited in the squad room and caught up with the officers, most of whom had known Arthur since he was a little boy.

Arthur had heard Uther mention the Domestic Violence Unit once or twice before in his ramblings about the importance of the police force, but he kind of dismissed it from his mind that domestic violence was a problem in Camelot. He wished he was right about that, but sadly all the paperwork and informational literature Merlin spread across his lap in the Smart Car proved otherwise.

“She hugged me,” Merlin told Arthur when he turned the key in the ignition.

“Who did?” asked Arthur.

“The Domestic Violence Officer. Her name was Freya something,” Merlin said. “She gave me her card.”

“Nice Emrys,” Arthur said. “As soon as you get me on your hook, you decide to go straight on me.”

Merlin laughed. “Not a chance,” he said.

Arthur leaned over to kiss him. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered when they broke apart.

At the Avalon Theatre, the Black Zigzags’ pre-tour rehearsal was well underway when Arthur and Merlin arrived.

Arthur got to reconnect with his bandmates while Merlin went to the booth to confer with the Black Zigzags’ crew to make sure the lighting was set the way he had arranged previously with Morgause. 

Arthur had thought they’d all be screwed, since Merlin lost his notebook with all his stage notes in the altercation with Mordred, but the fact was that Merlin had been so detailed in his arrangements that everything had been situated correctly the first time around, so only minor adjustments would be needed before the opening night.

“They sound good,” Arthur said, his hands clasping the front-row auditorium seat’s arm rests, when Morgause and Cenred finished a song.

“Don’t worry about them, mate,” Gwaine patted Arthur’s shoulder from the row behind him. “Cenred can’t compare to you.”

“I still wish we knew what he was doing snooping around the warehouse,” said Lance.

“You need to mention that to your father,” Leon said.

“Maybe he can have Cenred investigated for other nefarious crimes,” added Elyan.

“I bet I could take Cenred,” Percival said, punching one fist into the other, his massive biceps flexing.

“That would look great for us, Percy,” Arthur said while cuffing Percival in the head.

In the dark auditorium, they sat through the Black Zigzag’s set, each song sounding better than the last, and this was only a rehearsal. Arthur hoped the old adage of a brilliant rehearsal foretelling a shitty show would hold true.

When the Black Zigzags’ roadies began to strike the stage, Arthur wandered back to the control booth to see if he could give Merlin a hand.

He heard voices coming from the booth when he approached. As he rounded the corner, he was stopped cold by the conversation. Morgause and Nimueh were the only two people in the booth. They looked surprised to see Arthur, but they informed him that he could find Merlin at the control panel onstage.

Arthur thanked them and turned away. He could swear he had heard them mention the name… Mordred.


	25. Chapter 25

Arthur trotted down to the front of the theatre and found Merlin with Gwaine at the offstage control panel.

“Everything okay, Princess?” Gwaine asked. “You look worried.”

“No, I’m fine now,” Arthur said.

They watched as Merlin switched over the matrix to The Knights’ lighting profile from the one he used for The Black Zigzags.

“Hey,” said Merlin without looking up.

“Hey,” Arthur said, laying his palm on the back of Merlin’s neck.

“Is everything really alright?” Merlin asked.

“I just had a bit of a freak-out, that’s all,” Arthur said. “I thought I heard Nimueh and Morgause talking about Mordred.”

“Who’s Mordred?” asked Gwaine.

“What?” asked Merlin.

“Merlin’s ex,” Arthur said to Gwaine.

Merlin stopped what he was doing and reached for Arthur’s hand on his neck. He gave it a squeeze and threaded their fingers together.

“You must have misunderstood them,” Merlin said. “You’ve got a lot on your mind right now. The stress of the tour, tomorrow’s opening night, a new boyfriend… it all adds up.”

Gwaine looked incredulously from Merlin to Arthur and back to Merlin again. 

“You two,” Gwaine pointed from one to the other. “You two…?”

“Yes, Gwaine,” Arthur said. “We _are_ two consenting adults, for God’s sake.” He turned his attention back to Merlin. “I just needed to know that you’re safe,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Merlin smiled. He pressed a quick kiss to Arthur’s lips. “And the lighting isn’t too bad either. Now, go on- both of you. You have a tour to rehearse for.”

Merlin successfully shooed them away, but by the end of the rehearsal, Gwaine had told everyone, including the janitor at the Avalon Theatre, that a new romance had blossomed from within The Knights’ cadre.

The light show went off swimmingly and Arthur saved his voice as much as possible during his vocal exhibitions. Overall, the whole final rehearsal went pretty well. It was hard for Arthur to believe that they had finally reached this point. It seemed like yesterday that Gilli had arranged one of their first rehearsals in the Pendragon garage, which incurred the wrath of the Pendragon neighbours, and in turn, exacerbated Uther’s disenchantment with Arthur’s career path. Lately, it seemed like Uther and Arthur had forged an easy truce about Arthur’s plans to tour and Uther’s insistence that he pursue a career in law enforcement. Much had changed in the days since Merlin took up residence with the Pendragons. Arthur noticed Uther’s attitude soften when met with a person in need of legal protection, a position Arthur had never dared find himself in before. And Merlin seemed to bring out the best in Uther, eliciting a nurturing side that Arthur never knew he had.

Arthur felt good with Merlin at his side when the bandmates went out for a pint after their rehearsal. Gwen managed to corner them both near the coatrack and kissed them each on the cheek, telling them how very happy she was for them and that she wished there was some way for them to make beautiful babies together. Arthur got Lance’s attention and pointed at Gwen’s head, while drawing his forefinger across this throat, implying that she had already had too much to drink.

More than once, Arthur caught Leon winking at him, and whispering God-only-knows-what into Merlin’s ear. He began to get suspicious and told Percival that he’d better keep a close watch on his man tonight.

Elyan suggested that they go back to his and Gwaine’s place when the pub closed. There was no sense in calling it an early evening, since no one in the band would be getting much sleep tonight for all the nervous energy swirling around them on the eve of the tour kick-off. Arthur graciously declined, on behalf of himself and Merlin, which earned him a round of catcalls from the group.

It wasn’t soon enough that he and Merlin were stumbling toward the Smart Car and headed for home.

***

“Merlin, there’s something we need to talk about,” Arthur said as he drove the early morning streets of Camelot, the weekday pub crowds dispersing until the next thirsty Thursday.

“Is it the way your bandmates were carrying on?” Merlin asked. “I suppose that must have been a little embarrassing for you.”

Arthur reached for Merlin’s hand. “No, Merlin. No, it’s not that at all,” Arthur said. “That was all in good fun.”

The Smart Car passed a few more blocks with its occupants ensconced in silence.

“What is it, then?” Merlin asked, his voice tentative. “Is something wrong?”

Arthur exhaled thoughtfully. They passed a 24-hour pharmacy and Arthur hit the brakes. He pulled the Smart Car into the pharmacy parking lot and put it in park.

“It’s me, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I’ve never _been with_ a man before. There, I said it. Try not to hate me. Please.”

After a moment, Arthur felt Merlin’s cool fingertips on his cheek. Then Merlin was climbing across the impossibly claustrophobic interior of the Smart Car. He ended up straddled over Arthur’s lap, a position he used to his advantage for trailing kisses down Arthur’s cheeks, his jawline, and his neck.

“Oh, Arthur, you’re a prince,” Merlin said. “My prince, my prince,” he exclaimed over and over again.

Arthur slid his hands up the back of Merlin’s shirt and stroked his warm skin. He was pretty sure he wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction from Merlin, who had obviously been around the block a time or two, even before he hooked up with Mordred. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, although they each only had one pint at the pub, neither one of them anxious to get pissed before going home to the Chief of Police’s house.

Arthur took Merlin’s head in his hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“You’re not mad then?” Arthur said.

“Of course not, you fool,” Merlin laughed, his fingers buried in Arthur’s hair, his hips stuttering between the steering wheel and Arthur’s groin.

“You won’t mind showing me,” Arthur said. “I promise I’ll be an eager student.” He pressed a kiss to Merlin’s brow. “And patient beyond belief. And I _want_ to learn how, how to please you. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll learn.”

Arthur got the feeling that Merlin couldn’t contain his amusement, but he did manage to tone the mirth down. “This was something you were very worried about?” Merlin said, more than asked.

“You’ll have to show me,” Arthur nodded. “Tell me what I’m doing right, what I’m doing wrong. It can’t be _that_ hard, right? I mean look at Gwaine and Elyan- if those buffoons can figure it out, then why not me?”

“You’ve got a point, there,” Merlin said.

“And Leon and Percival, they do this sort of thing all the time, without putting too much thought into it. Now I’m making an arse of myself, aren’t I? Please stop me before I do. It’s too late, isn’t it?” Arthur laughed. His hands settled on Merlin’s hips, his forehead pressed to Merlin’s chest.

“Tell you what we’ll do,” Merlin said, cupping Arthur’s chin in his palm. “We’re at a pharmacy, right? Let’s go in and purchase some _supplies,_ so when you feel like learning more about this new _obsession_ of yours, we’ll have everything we need, yeah?”

“That’s a bloody brilliant idea,” Arthur said.

And that’s how they ended up with a half dozen boxes of different brands of condoms and three types of lube spread out over the comforter in Arthur’s room.

***

Arthur had dimmed the automatic lighting so his bedroom was a little more romantic than it had been the night before. It wasn’t like he needed to perform surgery in the frigging room. It must have worked, because Merlin was kissing him breathless. They were standing by the bed and they had both already kicked their trainers and socks off. Arthur’s thumbs were hooked through the belt-loops of Merlin’s borrowed jeans, Arthur’s second-skinniest pair. Merlin had his hands on Arthur’s biceps and Arthur was trying to silently flex them a bit, as if that might impress Merlin just enough to make him want to have full-blown sex with him.

“Look, Arthur,” Merlin said, breaking away to gaze over their purchases. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready.”

“I think I am ready,” Arthur whispered, wanting Merlin more than ever. “I don’t know that I would’ve spent fifty pounds on condoms tonight if I wasn’t.”

Merlin chuckled softly.

“Unless _you’re_ not ready,” Arthur said. “Then, I’d say no, absolutely not. We could just lie down like we have been, or maybe do what we did last night. Hmmm?”

“Shhh…” Merlin said. “You’re thinking too hard about it.” Arthur closed his eyes and felt Merlin’s lips on his. He unhooked his thumbs from the belt-loops and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist, his palms rubbing circles into the small if Merlin’s back.

Merlin pushed Arthur backwards as they kissed. Arthur rucked Merlin’s shirt up to his armpits. Merlin’s nipples were a rosy pink in the soft lighting. Arthur couldn’t resist, so he lowered his head and brushed his lips across the tiny nubs, making them grow hard under his mouth.

Merlin moaned happily with his efforts, his hand palming the bulge in front of Arthur’s jeans, adding to the heat that they were creating together.

Arthur pulled Merlin’s shirt the rest of the way off and drew him closer. When they reached the edge of the bed, Arthur stopped and tugged his shirt off. Using a swift movement of his thumb, he undid his fly and shoved his jeans out of the way, along with his boxers.

He had been imagining this moment all day, ever since he woke up to Merlin’s guitar playing. He wanted to give himself to Merlin, to offer himself up like a lamb to be slaughtered on the altar of Merlin’s love. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, dragging Merlin’s jeans down his thighs until they slid the rest of the way to the floor.

Merlin stepped out of his jeans. He was so beautiful, his pale skin glowing beneath the dimmed lights, his dark hair standing out in stark relief. Arthur admired all the places of Merlin that he wanted to know better. He wanted to know what they smelled like, tasted like, how they would make Merlin feel if he touched him there. Arthur let Merlin press him down to the bed, wanting to find out.

“I promise I can make this work if you give me a chance,” Arthur said, his voice shaky.

Merlin stopped him from talking, with another long kiss. Arthur sucked on Merlin’s tongue as it slid into his mouth. Merlin’s lips may have been soft, but they were so very skilled at making Arthur want more, pulling the pleasure out of him as their bodies moved together skin touching skin, Merlin’s hands everywhere. Arthur thought he couldn’t stand one more slide of his cock against Merlin’s as Merlin rutted against him.

“Yes,” Arthur moaned. “Just this, this is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He felt Merlin reach down to circle Arthur’s cock with his hand, collecting Arthur’s anticipatory juices with a swipe of his thumb across the head. Then Merlin was reaching back further beneath Arthur’s balls, circling and pressing his long slim fingers against Arthur’s entrance.

“Yes,” Arthur keened as Merlin slid the tip of his finger in, kissing the breath out of Arthur as he did so.

The pressure and the pain and every nerve ending ablaze with sensation, made Arthur want more.

Merlin grabbed a tube of lubricant and smeared it onto his fingers. He looked so sure of himself, so confident and determined to give Arthur what he asked for.

“Try to relax, love,” Merlin said as he worked Arthur open with fingers as skilled as his lips.

Arthur couldn’t get enough of Merlin, he had to have him inside him right now.

Merlin paused to let Arthur catch his breath.

“You’re doing fine, lovely,” he said.

Merlin swiftly rolled a condom onto his cock and he soon had Arthur’s knees bent with his feet in the air. He positioned himself and Arthur thanked God that Merlin knew to use enough lube because, even still, it felt like he was being impaled on Merlin’s glorious cock, a fate he’d gladly suffer if it meant that he was being deflowered by this man who he so wanted to keep safe from harm and protect from evil ex-boyfriends.

Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s. “Yes, I’m okay,” Arthur whispered, assuring Merlin that it was alright for him to start moving, which he thankfully did.

“Oh,” Arthur said as Merlin plunged forward and hit that bit inside of him that only doctors and Gwaine knew existed.

This was even better than Arthur thought it would be. Merlin knew what he was doing and Arthur was grateful for it. Merlin thrust into him again and again, the little droplets of sweat rolling off Merlin’s brow and splashing down on Arthur’s belly, until… until… Merlin arched his back and threw his head back and when he did, Arthur couldn’t stand the joy of it any longer. With a single stroke of his fist on his cock, his seed spewed onto his belly where it mixed with Merlin’s sweat.


	26. Chapter 26

When Arthur awoke in the morning, it wasn’t to a serenade, although he was quite sure Merlin would be happy to play another song for him someday soon. At least he hoped so.

He assessed his position before he opened his eyes. Mmmm…. Merlin’s warm chest against his back. Merlin’s arm tucked under his. One of Merlin’s feet pressed against his calf.

He could get used to this little spoon thing.

He opened his eyes to the morning light that filtered into the room. He could make out the shapes and shadows of various condom boxes still strewn across the bed. It would be awhile before he’d be ready to use one again, he thought, groaning at the ache in his arse.

He wondered if he could roll over. After some slow stretching and flexing, he decided to give it a try. Bracing himself with an elbow on the mattress for purchase, he held his breath and rolled. It wasn’t too bad, especially considering he ended up face to face with Merlin, his arms encircling him.

Merlin gave him a sleepy grin. He adjusted his embrace and held Arthur gently. His hair was sticking up in every direction, his breath smelled funny, and he needed a shave. On first sight, no one would ever guess that he was the sex God that Arthur experienced last night. Arthur smiled at the thought.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“You deflowered me,” Arthur said, sure he was grinning like an idiot.

Merlin laughed, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

Arthur bit his bottom lip. “You know those massive machines that drill for oil?” Arthur asked. “I feel like I was explored by one of them.”

“Massive?” Merlin burst out laughing. “You flatter me too much.”

Arthur smiled and buried his face in Merlin’s neck to hear the rumble of his laughter.

“No, it felt good,” Arthur said drawing back. “Feels good. I can’t wait to do it again.”

“Whoa, there,” Merlin said, hitching his leg possessively over Arthur’s hip. “You’ve got a show tonight. We can’t have you limping across the stage when fans are expecting entertainment.”

“I’ll have to make an announcement, apologizing to them,” Arthur said.

“Tell them you can’t keep your boyfriend away from your arse,” Merlin giggled.

“That would go over well,” Arthur said. He slid his hand over Merlin’s hip. His thumb traced absentmindedly over the fine line of scar that he had only seen at a distance.

“I suppose now is as good a time as any,” Merlin said.

He got to his knees and let the covers slide off him. 

“Can you see it?” Merlin asked, turning his head sideways to try to get a glimpse of his scar.

Arthur sat up and peered at the expanse of mutilated skin between Merlin’s hip and his arse cheek. He traced his fingers over the raised pentagram lines of white on white.

“He did this to you?” Arthur asked, tempering his tone because he knew damn well there was nothing that Merlin could do about it now.

“It was his birthday prezzie to me,” Merlin said, his voice hard.

Arthur was glad that Merlin seemed angry, rather than sad about it.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, letting his hand slide soothingly over Merlin’s bare skin. “I used to think you were accident prone. Getting jumped, a black eye, always trying to wear a game face, when now I know how much you were hurting inside. I wish I knew sooner, Merlin. I would have tried to do something to help.”

“You’re helping now,” Merlin said. He lifted one knee over Arthur’s thighs and straddled him, pressing Arthur’s back against the headboard.

“I hope that’s good enough,” Arthur said. His hands went to Merlin’s hips, his fingers feeling the rough edges of his scar.

Arthur’s cock was achingly hard and it only made it more so with Merlin sitting across his lap and kissing him into senselessness.

Merlin broke away and looked behind him for the lube. He flipped the cap open and handed it to Arthur.

“Prepare me,” he said. “Just because your arse is out of commission today doesn’t mean that I should have to suffer.”

Arthur followed Merlin’s explicit directions and soon had two fingers of one hand sliding into him, while his other hand reached behind Merlin’s neck to pull him in for a kiss.

When Merlin sank down onto Arthur’s cock, sheathing it to the hilt, Arthur was more than happy to help.

***

At the Pendragon breakfast table, Uther had a surprise.

“Sit down, lads, I think you’ll be pleased with what I have for you,” he said.

“I see you’re embracing the deadbeat lifestyle,” said Morgana over a breakfast of French Toast smothered in fresh berries and whipped cream.

“Morgana, if you’re referring to our morning attire, you can save it for the back pages of Velvet Rocks,” Arthur said, spearing a slice of French Toast from the platter.

He and Merlin had stayed in their pyjamas, hoping they’d get a chance for a nap before heading to the Avalon for opening night. Merlin wore a pair of Arthur’s plaid flannel sleep pants with his freshly laundered Death Cab for Cutie T-Shirt. Arthur wore his usual fare of sweats and a sleeveless tank top; he hoped to intimidate Morgana with his shoulders that, by some accounts, made him look formidable.

“What do you have, father?” Arthur asked. He eyed Morgana and decided Merlin’s domestic violence situation was as much of her business as was his sex life. He vowed to keep quiet about both from this point on.

Uther produced a Ziploc bag from his briefcase that was slung over a chair.

“I think this belongs to you,” he said, tossing the packet to Merlin, who had just plopped the last of the raspberries into his mouth.

Merlin caught it in one hand, dropping his fork on the plate. 

“Oh, you got it back,” Merlin effused.

Arthur never saw someone get so excited over a little scrap of fabric, especially not the little scrap of fabric that someone tried to strangle him with. He watched confusedly while Merlin got up from his place and hugged Uther in his chair.

When he returned to his seat, he happily removed it from the bag for Arthur to inspect.

Merlin explained that the blue rectangle of fabric was woven by hand when Hunith had taken a weaving class at the community centre. It was clearly one of Merlin’s prized possessions.

“How can you be so happy to see it when Mordred nearly killed you with it?” Arthur asked, forgetting his vow about keeping quiet in front of Morgana.

“Oh, Arthur, that doesn’t matter,” Merlin said. “This is a symbol of my mother’s love for me. Any bad feelings about it that Morded may have caused can’t erase the joy it brings me.”

Arthur admired the weave of the fabric. “I’m glad. I’m glad you can look at it that way.”

Uther looked pleased as well.

Leave it to Morgana to intercede at the most opportune moment of domestic bliss to take Arthur down a peg.

“So, Arthur,” Morgana said, squirting whipped cream onto her finger and licking it with a delicate tongue. “I was about to tell Uther how grateful I am to you for securing a place for Nimueh as a back-up singer.”

“Nimueh?” Uther asked.

The tension at the table could have been cut with a knife.

“Is that the same Nimueh from Glein Midwifery Services?” asked Uther agitatedly.

“The same,” said Merlin.

Arthur looked perplexedly at Merlin. What concern was this of his?

“And she’s a back-up singer for The Knights now?” Uther asked.

“I didn’t want to tell you, father,” Arthur said. “I know how much it upsets you to have reminders of mother’s death.”

Uther looked crestfallen.

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “Sorry for everything.”

There was silence at the table, while Morgana smirked in triumph. Arthur bent his head in shame, but Merlin couldn’t take his eyes off Uther.

“Maybe you could look at it the same way I look at my mother’s scarf?” asked Merlin.

Arthur didn’t know what he was talking about.

Morgana looked incensed.

Uther asked, “What do you mean?”

Merlin explained. “If I only had the bad memories associated with my scarf, Mordred would win. I can’t let him do that, so I only accept the good feelings from when my mother gave it to me. When your wife died, it was devastating, I’m sure. And now you’ve built your life around banishing everything to do with those memories. You have no electrical wiring in your house, you regard everything about midwifery with disdain, including Nimueh. Most sadly of all, you shun Arthur because he reminds you of that awful day… when really, he should be your greatest joy- a legacy of the joy that your wife left with you.”

No one spoke for a very long time.

*** 

Arthur backed the Smart Car into a parking space behind the Avalon Theatre. The parking lot itself was bustling with activity. Theatre personnel, including bouncers and security guards, roamed the lot, checking for gate crashers. Merlin was amazed by the huge crowd of fans who waited outside the theatre for the doors to open. Lance and Gwen had parked their mini-van right next to the huge set of loading doors that opened to the back of the stage. Leon and Percival pulled in right after Arthur and Merlin. Arthur waved to them through the open window, the afternoon air warm enough to drive with the windows down and cool enough to not require air conditioning. Percival leaned over and tried to lift the Smart Car off the ground by curling his massive hands beneath the front bumper.

“Knock it off,” Arthur laughed. “We can’t afford to lose our drummer tonight when he’s suffering from a hernia.”

From where Arthur had parked, Merlin could see The Black Zigzags’ stage set-up through the doors. Their typical red curtains with the black zigzags running over them had been a design element that they had used in the years that they had been successful at performing. It gave them an edgy look. Morgause was already standing on stage, giving her minions orders. Cenred was nowhere in sight at the moment.

Merlin had been busy reconstructing his contact list from Arthur’s mobile. He and Arthur had gone shopping after breakfast and picked him up a new one, since the mobile that was in his satchel that he left behind at Mordred’s when he was attacked had not yet been recovered by the police.

“To think I didn’t know anyone a month ago when I went to work for The Knights,” Merlin said, his fingers flying over the touchpad adding band members, back-up singers, equipment managers, and transportation workers. 

Arthur reached over and pinched Merlin’s earlobe between his thumb and forefinger.

“What?” Merlin squirmed. 

Arthur gently massaged the tiny bit of smooth flesh.

“You’ve got my attention now,” Merlin laughed. “You only do that because I told you how much it tickles.”

“You are as wise as you are lovely,” said Arthur.

Merlin blushed furiously, like he always did when Arthur spoke to him like that. It was getting to be a regular occurrence.

“What do you want?” Merlin asked.

“I think you already know the answer to that, but it will have to wait until we get home,” Arthur said.

“We’ll see about that,” Merlin said.

Arthur leaned over and kissed Merlin’s neck.

The press of Arthur’s tongue flickering over the sensitive skin made Merlin’s head fall back against his seat.

“I just want to tell you,” Arthur whispered as he pressed soft kisses along Merlin’s jawline. “How absolutely brilliant you are.”

“Because I talked your father into getting some wiring installed?” Merlin asked.

“That, and everything else,” Arthur said with another kiss.

“For showing up Morgana?” Merlin asked.

“And for giving me ideas about things that I’ve never thought about before,” Arthur said.

“I’m not sure I need to know about that,” Merlin said. He tilted his head and dropped the mobiles onto his lap so he could kiss Arthur properly on the mouth, his hands weaving through his silky golden locks. If there was a competition for the best boyfriend in the world, Arthur would win first prize, he decided.

“I just want to say, that if I don’t see you for a while, after we go inside,” Arthur said. “I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

“To think that I was simply going to tell you to break a leg,” said Merlin.

Arthur cupped Merlin’s chin in his hand and pressed their lips together. Their kiss was disturbed by the honking of a Beemer horn as Gwaine and Elyan pulled into the space beside them.

The four of them walked into the theatre together and reconnected with Lance, over the roar of the crowd in the audience. 

Merlin said his farewells. By the time he got to the control booth, The Black Zigzags were ready to take the stage.


	27. Chapter 27

Merlin had never been in charge of the logistics for such a massive tour before. He was pleased that everything seemed to be going according to plan. Not since High School, had he been given free rein over such a complex and detailed project as this opening night. Back in High School, his skills could make or break a band. He was thrilled that The Knights had given him this opportunity, especially Arthur. Merlin beamed with pride because of the trust Arthur put in him. Merlin was sure that he’d do everything in his power to not let him down.

Merlin didn’t have much to do for the Black Zigzags. Their light show was all controlled by electronic timers. As long as there wasn’t a power failure of a blown fuse, Merlin could just sit back and enjoy the show, in relative silence. He could almost feel the stomping of the crowd’s feet through the concrete walls as the fans waited for the concert to begin.

Once the Black Zigzags’ opening act ended, Merlin would have his hands full with his responsibilities for The Knights. He already had his trusty roll of gaffing tape around his wrist, just waiting to tape down Arthur’s set list when Morgause and Cenred’s equipment was removed from the stage.

The vibrations from the stomping became even stronger when the lights went out, signifying the start of the show.

Merlin plugged his headset into the sound board and slung the earphones around his neck.

He watched through the glass as a lone red spotlight flared on Morgause. She sat at her drum kit pounding out a fierce rhythm. She was using a modified kit that Merlin had never seen before. Each strike of her sticks sent a splash of water into the air. The water droplets shimmered in the glow of the spotlight.

The crowd went nuts over the effect. Merlin wondered if it was a building code violation. He made a mental note that one of the stagehands was going to have to take care of the spilled water before The Knights took the stage. In the meantime, Merlin leaned back against a cool concrete wall and tried to enjoy the show.

Morgause was wearing some sort of red catsuit and her trademark tits were flopping all over the place as she drummed. Merlin didn’t know much about the habits of girls, but he did have a mum once. And though she had been gone for a couple years, he could still hear her voice saying that young lady needed a bra.

Merlin laughed out loud. What a funny thing to be thinking about. All the talk at the Pendragon’s this morning about Arthur’s mum and his own mum, put him in the mood to miss her badly. He hoped that she was somewhere looking down on him and feeling proud of what he had accomplished during the past few weeks. She’d be especially thankful that Uther, who had taken pity on him at first, now regarded him as a close family friend. Merlin’s future was looking a lot brighter now, than it ever did when he was with Mordred.

He hopped up onto the rickety stool and watched while Cenred took the stage next to Morgause. The fangirls squealed in delight and some even threw their underwear up on the stage.

Cenred caught one particularly skimpy looking thong and slid it over the neck of his guitar.

The Black Zigzags really knew how to work the crowd. No wonder they were so successful. Merlin couldn’t help but think Arthur was right to worry that they might steal the show. The Knights were good, but tonight they had to be better than the double punch combo of Morgause and Cenred. Merlin knew they could do it.

He put on his headphones and listened to the Black Zigzags work through their set.

***

When the Black Zigzags’ set ended, Merlin sprang into action. He cued the sound board to blare a pre-selected sequence of other artists’ music through the speakers that were mounted to the framework on each side of the stage. He opened the control booth door to listen and see if he needed to adjust the sound further. Everything seemed fine, so he closed the door behind him.

He left the booth and jogged to the stage. He tried to push down any hope of seeing Arthur. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want to see him;_ it was just that he had so many things to do, in so little time. The band’s success was riding on Merlin’s abilities. He tried to concentrate on doing what needed to be done. He’d worry about flirting with his boyfriend later.

As The Black Zigzags’ instruments were struck from the stage, Merlin changed over the lighting matrix so that The Knights’ stage show configuration was loaded.

He peered out onto the stage to see if one of the hands had taken care of the water. A flurry of activity was taking place there, and Merlin could barely make out the crew members who, like himself, were dressed entirely in black.

Merlin walked out onto the darkened stage. It still looked wet in the various sources of light that shined across the theatre from random cigarette lighters, flashes from cameras, and the emergency lighting backstage. He reached down to the floor where Morgause’s drum kit had been, and he felt the droplets of water that had been spilled.

He got the attention of a crew member.

“Are you going to take care of this water?” Merlin asked.

“Yeah, mate,” he answered. “They’re getting a mop for it right now.”

“Alright then,” Merlin replied.

He taped the set lists in their proper locations. The list had been reviewed by the bandmates so many times that Merlin had the list committed to memory. It was hard to believe that some musicians were known to get a brain cramp and forget their entire set order when they got on stage. It was best to leave little to chance.

The audience was starting to get restless. Merlin took it as a positive sign that they were getting rowdy and stomping their feet for The Knights. It gave him confidence that Arthur and the Knights were going to do just fine.

Merlin took one last look around the stage, to make sure everything was as it should be. The instruments were all in place, the set lists, microphones, the light scheme- finally, this was it.

He sighed as he trotted back up to the control booth. He hadn’t expected to see Arthur backstage, but it was still a tiny disappointment. He shook it off, telling himself that he and Arthur would have the whole night to spend together after The Knights’ performance. Then, Merlin felt confident enough in Arthur and the band’s abilities that he dreamed about going on to The Round Table Tour for the rest of the summer.

***

Merlin passed through the auditorium, climbing through the unmistakable haze of marijuana that had accumulated during the intermission.

When he reached the top of the incline that the rows of seats ascended, he looked back toward the stage. There was Arthur, and the rest of the band. An audience member wouldn’t be able to make them out in the blackened theatre, but Merlin knew exactly the clothes Arthur wore, his white linen shirt over black jeans that were tighter even than the pair he loaned Merlin for this occasion. Arthur’s shirt caught Merlin’s eye as Arthur moved across the stage, taking his place at the microphone.

Merlin smiled fondly.

He supposed no one would notice or care if he blew him a secret kiss. He raised his fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to the fingertips. Across the heads of the concertgoers, he let it fly. The simple thing gave Merlin a warm feeling of satisfaction. It no longer mattered that he didn’t get to see Arthur one last time before the show. He felt like he had messaged him from the depths of his heart.

When Merlin arrived at the control room, he was surprised to see that he had left the door ajar.

He scratched his head and retraced his steps in his mind. He didn’t remember leaving it open. He felt terrible for committing such a security violation. And on opening night, too. Was he so daft as to leave the door unsecured so any concertgoer could wander in there and take a piss on the control board?

He entered the booth, checking the lock on the door. Everything seemed as it should be. He looked over the matrix of wires and toggles that controlled The Knights’ lighting effects. Nothing looked disturbed. He sighed with relief and resolved to believe that he had simply left the door open in his anxiousness to get to the stage.

Merlin sat on the stool and waited for The Knights’ performance to begin. He fidgeted for a few minutes, although he was well-versed in the common practice of letting the crowd build itself into frenzy before the featured act began to play.

He felt embarrassed for his negligence with the door, and this extra expanse of quiet time was doing nothing to put his mind at ease.

There was one more thing he could do.

In the corner of the booth, the spiral staircase led to the catwalk. If someone had entered the booth in Merlin’s absence, they could do a lot of damage by messing with the wiring and the sprinkler system that they would connect with up there, not to mention the trouble they could cause for the theatre if they got injured doing some kind of prankish stunt.

Merlin decided he’d feel better if he checked it out.

The audience was behaving just as they had been prior to The Black Zigzags’ performance. They stomped their feet and batted a beach ball or two over the crowd, until a security guard put a stop to their fun. Merlin smiled, remembering that he’d be hearing Arthur’s voice any minute. He climbed the spiral staircase, just to have a look across the expanse of horizontal scaffolding that served as a catwalk above the crowd.

Of course he could barely see a damn thing up there, with the stage and the audience blacked out. He went to reach inside his pocket for his lighter, then remembered that it had been lost in the scuffle with Mordred. 

No matter, the lighting was all in place, and no one in their right mind would walk around on the catwalk unless they knew what they were doing. He took a few steps out onto it, just so he could look around, when a rare flash of light from a camera reached this height. Below him, the crowd was becoming more excited about the show’s impending start.

Merlin would love to spend the night on the catwalk, watching the show from this strange angle. Maybe someday, he’d arrange it. He gripped the metal railing to make his way back to the top of the spiral staircase when he was stopped dead in his tracks.

“So, Merlin, we meet again,” Mordred said.


	28. Chapter 28

Merlin swayed backwards on the catwalk. For an instant, he thought he was going to lose his balance and plunge into the audience below. He reached behind him with one hand, feeling in the dark for the cold steel of the railing. He gripped it tight.

“Mordred,” Merlin said, wishing he never had reason to give voice to the name again.

Below them, the audience waited for The Knights to begin the show. The chanting mixed with the smoke, and filtered up to the rafters of the auditorium.

“You have no business being up here,” Merlin shouted, trying to sound commanding, but certain that he was failing miserably.

Mordred took a step toward him. Their combined weight on the fragile catwalk made it quiver in mid-air.

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, “In a land of myth and a time of magic...”

A flash of light illuminated the theatre. The show had officially begun. 

Another flash fired.

And another.

Merlin could see Mordred, as plain as if he were standing in the brilliant sunshine. In his hands, Mordred held a set of automobile jump leads and a pair of needle-nose pliers.

“What are you doing with those?” Merlin pleaded.

“I told you before, Emrys,” Mordred said, his voice so cold it sent a shiver through Merlin, although the heat of five-thousand concertgoers had warmed the lofty heights of the Avalon, where he and Mordred stood precariously on the brink above the crowd. “I’ll beat you every time.”

The Knights had begun to play. The audience roared in approval, shaking the Avalon all the way to the rafters. It was only then that Merlin noticed the wires dangling behind Mordred’s head. His eyes scanned the lengths of wire that had been run through the conduit, across the rafters, and down to the stage where The Knights had launched into the instrumental portion of their opening song.

“What are you doing?” Merlin yelled. He thought about trying to force Mordred off the catwalk, but he feared he’d fall over the edge himself.

Mordred grinned at him, his blue eyes narrowed in fury.

“Let’s see how your boyfriend likes being the centre of attention now,” Mordred said.

Merlin watched in horror as Mordred connected one end of the jump leads to the exposed wires. 

He was planning to electrocute Arthur.

Merlin had to do something to stop him. He flew across the narrow walkway, hoping to catch Mordred off guard. He shoved him backwards, not caring what the consequences were. He wouldn’t let Mordred do anything to hurt Arthur, or himself, again.

With the force of Merlin’s impact, Mordred lost his balance temporarily and went down on one knee.

Merlin tried to grab the leads out of his hands, but Mordred was too fast. Merlin fell forward onto the walkway, the cool metal searing cold on his belly where his shirt had ridden up. His mind raced, trying to think of a way to stop Mordred from inflicting damage upon Arthur.

He crawled toward Mordred, still trying to get the jump leads away from him. Mordred held onto the metal railing and kicked at Merlin’s hands when he got closer.

Merlin didn’t care if he got hurt, he just needed to save Arthur. He lunged at Mordred, and grappled with him against the metal railings.

Then, in one horrible moment, before Merlin could tell what was happening, Mordred shoved him hard.

Merlin slid over the edge of the catwalk. He fell through the air, arms and legs flailing. He slowed only when his oversized black T-shirt caught on a sharp edge of the metalwork. He heard the fabric rip and thought it would be the last sound he ever heard. In the frames of his life that passed before his eyes, he thought he had enjoyed himself pretty damn well with Arthur during the past few days. He was ever so grateful that his final thoughts were happy ones.

He prepared for impact on the auditorium seats, some fifty feet below. He hoped his fall wouldn’t hurt anyone.

He was unprepared for the abrupt stop when his hand, in its flailingness, caught hold of a piece of metal scaffolding.

He paused to catch his breath.

He was... alive.

***

Merlin carefully reached for a vertical piece of hanging metal with his free hand and made good with his hold. For once, he was thankful that he was a skinny fuck, because his arms wouldn’t be strong enough to hold much more weight.

Merlin looked toward the stage, where Arthur was about to take the microphone.

“No!” he screamed in frustration at the top of his lungs, his feet kicking in mid-air above the crowd of horrified onlookers. Some of the fans must have heard him as he dangled there, shirtless and fearing the worst.

On stage, Gwaine shaded his eyes from the spotlight.

Someone in the audience shrieked.

Merlin hung on for dear life, hoping that Gwaine could see what was happening high above the crowd, and praying that he’d take action.

He could swear he saw Gwaine’s lips form his name... _Merlin_... a look of utter shock on Gwaine’s face. 

Gwaine dove for the microphone.

Merlin blinked once.

When he opened his eyes, the lights were out.

The theatre was silent for a split second. Then, chaos ensued beneath him. The audience exploded with moans of disappointment and screams of outright panic.

 _Count to ten, Merlin,_ he told himself. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand….

His arms burned with the stretch to his muscles.

Eight-one thousand, nine-one thousand.

The thunk of the emergency generators switched the power on.

A roar of applause went through the crowd, followed by more staccato shrieks when people realized Merlin was hanging, ready to fall onto them when one more drop of nervous sweat formed on his palms.

On stage, Arthur and Elyan knelt over Gwaine, who lay in a crumpled heap on the stage.

Someone began to administer CPR.

Merlin bit his lower lip. His arms were numb, and somewhere above him, Mordred still loomed dangerously. If he tried to kill Arthur, who knows what he’d try to do to Merlin?

Merlin tried to swing a leg onto the scaffolding. His long limbs were both a curse and a blessing. He could get a lot of momentum, but he feared he wasn’t limber enough to catch the metal rail between his ankles. The ache in his arse wasn’t helping matters. That’ll teach me for bottoming from the top, he thought.

Meanwhile, he could hear Mordred working on the wires above him. He probably had some other plan up his sleeve to destroy Arthur, which was really pissing Merlin off.

Just the thought of it was enough to give Merlin that extra push he needed to hook a foot around the scaffolding.

He hung there for a moment, catching his breath. It was a long drop down and Merlin tried to not think about the way Gwaine was lying there unconscious on stage. The huge doors at the back of the stage had been opened. Merlin realized that the night air had turned cooler. The heat seemed to rush out of the auditorium through the doors. Merlin thought he heard an ambulance in the distance.

That was a long enough rest, he decided. Merlin pulled from his inner reserves of strength to hoist himself onto the catwalk.

Mordred was waiting.

In each hand, he held a handle to the jump leads. Their opposite ends were attached to the wiring he had pulled from the ceiling.

As soon as Merlin’s exhausted body landed face-down on the metal walkway, Mordred was on him.

It was now or never for Merlin. He wrestled one of the leads free from Mordred’s hand. He reached beneath the catwalk and clipped it to the first piece of metal it hit. A shower of sparks fell onto the onlookers below.

Mordred was incensed. He pummelled Merlin with his fists atop the narrow walkway. Merlin ducked his head to avoid the blows. He crawled forward to try to get to his feet, but Mordred’s attack made it impossible. Instead, he saw another opportunity. Mordred had abandoned his other jump lead. It was within Merlin’s reach.

He slid his hand along the walkway and gripped the jump lead’s handle. Mordred was so relentless with his fists that Merlin doubted he even realised the lead was unaccounted for.

Merlin pinched the handle, opening the lead’s alligator clamp, and before another fists could connect with him, he shoved the lead at Mordred’s fist and let go of the handle.

Merlin heard Mordred scream as the electrical current ran through him, a dragon of amperes claiming his soul.

*** 

It was Uther who came to Merlin’s rescue, leaping onto the catwalk with his gun drawn. Merlin didn’t dare move from his perch, lest he fall off the walkway again.

Mordred’s convulsing corpse had long shorted out the wiring that was destined to kill Arthur. Still, Uther regarded it cautiously.

He edged his way closer to Merlin, holstering his weapon, since it was no longer necessary.

“Come on, son,” Uther said. “Let’s get you down from here.”

Merlin was shaky on his feet. He didn’t know whether he wanted to cry because he killed a man or hug Uther for attending Arthur’s performance or run to the stage to make sure Gwaine was alive. In only ten minutes, so much had changed. The first thing he needed to do was to find Arthur, to hold him, to tell him he’d never let him go.

The hum of the crowd became a dull roar in Merlin’s ears and he was struck by the fact that he didn’t think anyone had yet left the theatre in search of some other excitement on a Friday night.

“That’s it,” said Uther as he helped Merlin negotiate the narrow metal path, a protective arm around Merlin’s bare shoulders.

They reached the top of the spiral staircase and Merlin hesitated. Uther stripped off his police-issue jacket and wrapped it around Merlin. He pressed his hands against Merlin’s back, insisting that Merlin descend first. Merlin knew it would be better that way too, so his last memory of Mordred would be of Uther commanding the scene, not one of himself as a lonely boy who took the life that nearly took his own.

Merlin chanced one last look at Mordred, feeling nothing, before he descended the stairs.

Before even one of Merlin’s trainers hit the control room floor, Uther was behind him.

The room was exactly as Merlin left it when he thought to check the catwalk, except Uther had left the door open. Merlin kicked the rickety wooden stool until it slid under the control board. He was suddenly overcome with the sadness that The Knights’ Round Table Tour had ended before it began, because there was no hope of recovering from this disaster.

Just then, Arthur flew through the control room door.

“Merlin,” he sighed, embracing him with all his might. “Thank God you’re alive.”

Merlin hugged Arthur fiercely, well… as fiercely as he could with Uther standing right next to them.

“I’m okay,” Merlin said. “And you, you’re fine. What about Gwaine?”

“Did you see him? The paramedics are taking him to the hospital. He got quite a shock, but they think he’ll be okay. He’s got burns to his hand where he touched the microphone- Father, you need to investigate Cenred, and probably Morgause too.”

“The warehouse,” Merlin said. “Gwaine couldn’t imagine what Cenred was doing when he broke into the warehouse.”

“When did he break into the warehouse? Why didn’t you tell me this before?” asked Uther.

“He didn’t break in,” said Arthur. “The lock wasn’t broken. He may have had _inside_ help. You might start by investigating The Knights’ new back-up singer. And while you’re at it, you might question Morgana, as well.”

“Morgana?” Uther asked.

“Well, you know she has a mean streak where I’m concerned, and she was involved in getting Nimueh the job,” Arthur said.

“Very well,” said Uther. “Let’s see if I can’t sort this mess out.”

Arthur stopped him as he made to leave.

“Father, what’s going to happen to all these people? None of them appear to be leaving, and no one has told security to ask them to leave.”

“Give me an hour, and let me see what I can do,” said Uther.

He left the booth, closing the door behind him.

“God,” Arthur said, framing Merlin’s face in his hands. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Never,” said Merlin.

He pressed his lips to Arthur’s and sank into his arms, never feeling safer.


	29. Chapter 29

Merlin wasn’t sure that he wanted to open his eyes. He always had suffered from a little bit of stage-fright. It probably came from growing up in the tiny village of Ealdor, where there wasn’t much opportunity to perform before a huge crowd, even if a musician was inordinately talented. 

He let his fingers slide over the fretboard of Gwaine’s guitar. The weight of the instrument hung easily off one naked shoulder. It had been so long since he performed with other musicians, but playing came naturally to him. His fingers knew their way across the strings. The crowd seemed to approve.

If he listened to the deep strums of Leon’s bass notes, Merlin couldn’t help but move his feet. He took a few steps across the stage as the rhythm swept him, never losing his place in the song.

The black gaffing tape that marked the frames of reference for The Knights’ stage show were meaningless now. Merlin kicked at the edge of the set list until it tore from its tape anchor. Spinning it one-hundred-eighty degrees with the toe of one trainer, he squinted to read the name of the second song. _Write bigger!_ -he filed away the advice to himself for the next time, if a next time ever came.

Merlin’s entire being thrummed with Percival’s drum strikes. His fingers had no trouble keeping up with the beat, despite nearly two years without practice, without motivation, without the desire.

Occasionally, his nostrils would catch a whiff of industrialized air from the gasoline-powered generators. If the crowd that had gathered in the parking lot of the Avalon didn’t mind, he sure didn’t. And neither did anyone else in The Knights. Making a few phone calls to get a portable power-source set up, this was the best he could do on short notice. It didn’t hurt that he had the police chief’s approval.

Leon sauntered up to him, all long and cool with his bass hanging low across his groin.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he grinned, yelling over the amplifiers as he plucked at the strings.

Merlin had no intention of losing his shit, by smiling. He avoided looking too far beyond the frame of the huge open backstage doors where the crowd had created an impromptu mosh pit in the parking lot. He put on his best emo face and jumped up and down a few times to the music. The fangirls screamed. Merlin turned his back on them and let a secret smile break over his face. He figured the only way he’d get more female attention would be if he had his nipples pierced.

He peered into the darkened auditorium while he played. Perhaps someday, he’d be able to play to a full house, instead of a parking lot of Black Zigzags’ fans…. okay, he chided himself, supposing some of them were fans of The Knights, too.

Lance was going nuts on his keyboard as the song’s melody started. It was his turn to be the centre of attention. He spun around, looking all serious as his fingers pounded the keys.

Behind him, Gwen and Nimueh were doing their best to look sexy.

The crowd chanted Arthur’s name, their voices growing louder by the second.

Elyan, fresh from the hospital, where Gwaine insisted he that he was alright, returned to the Avalon as soon as he received word from Merlin that, as they say in the business, “The show must go on.”

Merlin walked toward Elyan and jammed with him for a minute, each guitar duelling with its regular mate. Merlin would have to remember to give Gwaine shit about it when he was released from the hospital.

A cheer went up among the crowd as Arthur walked onto the stage without a spotlight to illuminate him. Merlin shook his head from side to side. It would be easy for him to feel regretful that all his work on the lighting plan was for naught. But he only had to take one look at the man on stage to know that things like that didn’t matter. This was Arthur’s time to shine, spotlight or no. And shine, he did.

He grabbed the microphone, and kicked off the concert with a “One, two, three, four…”

***

Uther had made the final decision about allowing The Knights to play to the crowd in the Avalon Theatre parking lot. It didn’t hurt that Uther’s position as the head of law enforcement in Camelot meant he was owed a bunch of favours by the code enforcement officials, the building inspector, the medical examiner, the zoning department, the city planner, the mayor, maybe even the dog catcher ….the list went on.

It was good to be king, and Merlin appreciated every string that Uther pulled in order to make this concert a reality for Arthur.

Something in Uther had changed, even in the couple weeks Merlin had known him. Arthur would swear that the change came because of Merlin, himself, coming into Arthur’s life, and the lives of the Pendragons. Like a stray kitten, Merlin had worked his way into their hearts. He made them feel needed. And they were lighter for it.

Since Uther was already the de facto commander of the security guards and the bouncers, the crowd was kept under reasonable control as they were shuffled from the theatre proper, down the street and around the back to the parking lot. Of course the band member’s cars were moved out of the way so there was maximum real estate to be used for the concertgoers.

Merlin agreed that playing on stage, using the Avalon’s electricity, would have been too dangerous. It was too great a risk with all that water Morgause and Cenred had splashed around as added insurance that the sabotaged microphone would shock Arthur. Who knows what other diabolical plans The Black Zigzags had forged to derail The Round Table Tour so they could take over for The Knights when they put Arthur out of commission? Merlin was certain that the depths of their villainous ways were yet to be understood.

Their plan had unravelled completely when Gwaine saw Merlin hanging from the rafters in his duel with Mordred. In an effort to get Merlin some help, he grabbed the microphone that Cenred had tampered with at the garage a few nights earlier. It didn’t benefit Morgause and Cenred at all to have knocked Gwaine out of The Knights’ line-up. Arthur was the frontman. The band relied on Arthur to make or break them.

No one was more pleased than Merlin to see Morgause and Cenred, hauled down to the station. He was pretty sure their days of performing were over. Gwaine and Arthur were lucky to have escaped without being seriously injured.

Merlin smiled at Arthur as he stood at the edge of the stage, daring the mosh crew to catch him if he leaned too far forward. It was a joy to see him in his element, bringing his entertaining ways to the fans. He truly reigned supreme over his audience. Not to mention that he looked sexy as hell in that white V-neck.

Merlin found himself going red, so he focused on his strings again, or _Gwaine’s_ strings, as he should regard them. Merlin had no intention of making this performance thing a habit. He’d be happy with an occasional job of serenading Arthur whilst he lounged in bed. Ooops, turning red again. Get your mind out of the gutter, Emrys.

***

Merlin recalled the hour earlier, in the theatre office, when the building had finally been emptied of concertgoers, and they were safely waiting in the parking lot to see if a show would, in fact, take place. The medical examiner had Mordred’s dead body removed from the catwalk and taken to the city morgue. Arthur stood by, a hand squeezing Merlin’s shoulder through Uther’s blue nylon police jacket, while Uther assured Merlin that Mordred’s untimely death was a simple case of self-defence and Merlin needn’t worry about repercussions from his involvement.

Merlin was, understandably, stunned that he had contributed to the death of another living person, and Uther urged him to take Freya’s advice that she had given him at the station. He needed to speak with a therapist. It would help Merlin to heal from the trauma that Mordred inflicted upon him, both in his life, and by his death. Merlin promised Uther that he would take Freya’s advice to heart.

When Uther left to further command the accident scene, Arthur echoed Uther’s words to Merlin.

“I’ll even go with you, if you’d like,” Arthur said. 

Merlin smiled. “I’d like that very much,” he said. He chose his next words carefully. “I know I can’t expect the things that happened… before… and the things that happened _tonight_ to just disappear on their own.”

Arthur enfolded Merlin in his arms, the police jacket making a scrunching sound like a piece of cellophane being crumbled. “I’m more than happy to help as much as I can to make them disappear a bit more,” he said.

Merlin slid his arms around Arthur, his nose buried in the soft hair that curled behind his ear. “I’ll happily accept whatever help you’ll give me,” Merlin said. 

“You’re very wise, Merlin,” Arthur said, squeezing him tighter.

Merlin drew back and met Arthur’s eyes.

“Something strange happened while Mordred was dying,” Merlin whispered. “I know I need help, but promise me that you won’t think I’m losing my mind, if I tell you.”

Arthur ran his fingers over Merlin’s cheek. “It depends,” Arthur smiled. “What was it?”

Merlin elbowed Arthur in the ribs. “No, I’m serious,” Merlin said.

“Tell me,” Arthur coaxed. “What was it?”

“Well, when he was _there_ on the catwalk, and the electricity was coursing over him…” Merlin was at a loss for how to explain it.

“Go ahead,” Arthur said, slipping Merlin’s hand into his own.

“It was as if there were shapes in the electric current. I don’t know how to describe it,” Merlin said.

“What kinds of shapes?” Arthur urged.

“Weird things, like a dragon and the outline of a castle, a sword… shit like that,” Merlin bit his bottom lip.

Arthur speared Merlin’s hair with his fingers and gave a little tug. “How’s that bump on the head?” he asked.

“It’s much better, thank you very much,” Merlin laughed.

Arthur slid a hand behind Merlin’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Merlin went willingly, his mouth pressing soft against Arthur’s lips before becoming hungry and needy with tongue and gently nipping teeth. 

“You know,” Arthur said when they broke apart, “Sometimes I think I’m seeing crazy things too. Mostly I dream them. It’s as if there’s something I’m supposed to know, but I simply don’t understand it.”

“Yet,” Merlin said, touching Arthur’s lips with his index finger, Arthur’s ring adorning his hand.

“Yet,” Arthur agreed.

As Merlin launched into his guitar solo in front of the appreciative crowd, he remembered Arthur’s words and the promise that they’d figure it out together.

The Knights gave Merlin a wide berth so he could take over their modified stage.

His fingers slid over the keys with both talent and precision.

The crowd grew impossibly louder, cheering and chanting Merlin’s name.

Merlin finally raised his head and looked over the sea of fans.

He nodded to Arthur and smiled.

Everything was going to turn out fine.


	30. Chapter 30

Two weeks later...

Arthur rounded the corner onto his block. He killed the radio and accelerated down the tree-lined street. The air was ripe with the fragrances of the warmest months of the year, roses, lilies, hydrangeas…. He hoped it was enough to mask the scent that emanated from the back seat. He grinned and pushed his aviators up further on his nose. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Merlin’s face when he pulled into the driveway.

All of Camelot was still reeling from the incident at The Avalon Theatre. Morgause and Cenred, two of the region’s most popular musicians, were jailed. They awaited trial for attempted murder. Another man was dead, although deservedly so, if you asked Arthur.

Unfortunately, The Round Table Tour ended before it began. The Avalon Theatre, that was to be the home base for The Knights, was now under heavy renovations and couldn’t be used until the wiring was brought up to standard.

“Maybe by the end of summer,” Geoffrey, the Avalon’s owner, reluctantly told the band when they met after the ill-fated opening night.

Arthur thanked him and hoped that he would keep his word to allow the band to play when the theatre was ready.

“In the meantime,” Arthur said, standing at the head of the table at The Hasty Snail, “My father has promised to leave no stone unturned when it comes to finding suitable venues where The Knights can perform and practice their music.”

A loud cheer went up among The Knights, followed by the splashing of ale as they raised their glasses to drink to Uther’s plan.

“You’ll need all the practice you can get,” Merlin taunted, a bit tipsy from the ale. “If you hope your new front man will be ready to perform when the Avalon is ready.”

Gwaine slapped Merlin on the back. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate,” he said with a laugh.

The bandmates broke into a chant of, “Gwaine, Gwaine, Gwaine!”

“Don’t let it go to his head,” Arthur said to Elyan.

“I’m honestly afraid that it’s too late!” Elyan remarked. “He’s already got me calling him _Princess!”_

Leon swore to Arthur that he would do his best to make Gwaine look as good as, if not better, than Arthur did when he was the lead singer of The Knights.

Percival had no choice but to agree with his gorgeous scruffy-faced boyfriend.

Several pints later, Gwen pressed an emotionless kiss to Arthur’s lips. “I really wish you two every happiness together,” she slurred, before draping herself over Merlin’s lap. “Oh, Merlin, you’re so fucking pretty! How _do_ you get your eyeliner to look so perfect? ”

“Uh, Lance,” Merlin raised his hand to get Lance’s attention. “You might want to put this one to bed before she gets into any more trouble.”

Their last evening as bandmates had ended on a positive note, with Arthur passing the torch to Gwaine. He and Merlin promised to return from their adventures to catch The Knights in concert when their earliest opportunity arose.

Arthur took a deep breath, slowed down the vehicle, and pulled into the driveway.

There he was- the most gorgeous creature to ever walk the planet, just sitting on a pile of boxes, waiting for Arthur to arrive at the Pendragon house.

He looked very concerned.

***

“Hey little boy,” Arthur yelled through the rolled-down window.

“Arthur? What the fuck?” Merlin said, standing up and running a hand through his hair.

“I need someone to lick my ice cream cone,” Arthur pouted.

“I’ll give you an ice cream cone to lick, you freak,” Merlin said, his thumb pressing the button on the conversion van’s passenger-side door handle, to no avail. “It’s got a fur dashboard, for God’s sake. And what’s that smell?”

“It’s perfect for us, isn’t it?” Arthur asked, reaching across the seat to open the door from the inside. “Besides, beggars can’t be choosers.”

“The hell they can’t,” Merlin said, climbing in.

Arthur liked how feisty Merlin had become. After only a few weeks at the therapist, he was ready to grab the world by the balls.

Freya had even recommended someone in Glastonbury that he could see when Arthur got settled at school.

That’s right, Arthur realised. He had exactly one month to get all the jamming out of his system because for the next four years, his nose would be buried in psychology books, learning the art of helping others that are in the same kind of mortal peril Merlin was when they first met.

Arthur was able to get a recommendation from the Camelot Police Department, as well as a few strings pulled by Uther Pendragon himself, to get into the program. Uther didn’t even mind paying for Arthur’s flat, as long as he was going to become a public servant at the end of the four years. Arthur couldn’t promise that he’d stick with this career path forever, but it sure sounded better than attending the Police Academy. Best of all, it met with Uther’s approval.

Uther was finally getting the son he wanted.

Arthur was getting what he wanted, too. He even managed to convince Uther that Merlin would make the perfect roommate, since they got along so well together, pointing out that Merlin never did have to sully the guest room with his vagabond presence, not even for one night, in the month that he stayed with the Pendragons. And, in the fall, Merlin would begin his apprenticeship to an electrical engineer, also arranged by Uther, who seemed to be treating Merlin as a second son. Arthur thought engineering was a brilliant choice on Merlin’s part, because everyone needs a little electricity in their life and he’d always have employment. Until then, Merlin would be paying his own way with the money earned from using Arthur’s guitar when they spent the rest of the summer at the beach, living inside the... in the… 

“Where did you get this monstrosity?” Merlin asked.

“Bought it from a fellow named ‘Gilli’. You don’t know him, but he used to be a friend,” Arthur said.

Merlin shook his head. “At least it has more room in it than that yellow sardine-can did.”

“I think we’ll be quite comfy living in it. Besides, it’s only for a month. Are you okay with it? Because if you’re not…” Arthur took Merlin’s hand and threaded their fingers together.

Merlin leaned over the wide bench seat and kissed Arthur’s cheek. “I love you, Arthur,” he said. “I wouldn’t care if I were homeless and living in a car park, as long as I was with you.”

Arthur smiled. “Well, that’s a lovely sentiment, but I think we can do a bit better than that,” Arthur said. “And I love you, too. Speaking of people who love you, here’s another one now.”

Uther stepped out of the garage and into the driveway. “Well, I don’t know what you’re thinking, son,” he said, hands on his hips as he apprised the conversion van. He shook his head and muttered, “Kids!”

“It’ll be fine, Uther,” Merlin said, giving the door a shove so it would open.

Arthur got out of the van and met his father in the driveway.

“Is this all you’re taking?” Uther asked, pointing to the pile of boxes, stuffed with their belongings that sat in the driveway.

“That’s all we’ll need for now, father,” Arthur said, tossing the boxes into the van.

“Well, you’re only a few hours away,” Uther said. “You can come back to get more things as you need them.”

“Thanks, father,” Arthur said. “I’m sure we will. Thanks for everything.” Arthur embraced his father, hugging him with all his might. This ordeal with the band, and with Merlin, made Arthur feel closer to Uther than he ever had before. When he let go, Arthur got back into the van and revved the engine.

“And you,” Uther said to Merlin. “You’ll not get away that easily.” And with that, Uther hugged Merlin to him, just as if he were his own son.

“Thanks for everything, sir,” Merlin said, tugging on the van door so he could climb inside.

“You know, Merlin,” Uther said. “It’s too bad my son isn’t gay, because quite honestly, I think you’d make such a terrific son-in-law, I’d try to fix him up with you.”

Arthur cringed. “Goodbye, father,” he said, fastening his seat belt.

“Goodbye, son. Drive carefully,” Uther said. “You too, Merlin.”

Arthur bit his lip and pulled the van out of the driveway.

“That was a close one,” he said, when they turned onto the main road.

Merlin took his hand and squeezed it. “You’ll have to tell him someday,” he laughed.

“Someday,” Arthur said, and he squeezed Merlin’s hand in his own.

And the day would come when Arthur broke the news that he was gay to Uther, with Merlin at his side of course, but for today, they headed toward the sunny seaside where waves crashed along the shore, the seafoam bubbles expanding like Merlin’s dreams, endless, white and pure.

***  
“Hey, Arthur…”

“Mmmmph.” 

“Arthur?”

Arthur felt the mattress dip. 

“Hey, look. Look what I can do now,” Merlin nudged Arthur’s shoulder.

“Merlin…” Arthur pulled the covers over his head to block out the sound.

Arthur heard Merlin giggle. He supposed he should be curious about what Merlin was doing now. Probably filling their bedchamber with toads or turning the washstand into a tentacled monster.

Whose brilliant idea was it for Arthur to allow magic in Camelot anyway?

He had to wonder at such times.

Arthur flopped onto his back and squinted his eyes open against the candlelight to see what in the five kingdoms was making Merlin laugh at this late hour.

“Merlin, come back to sleep,” he said, stretching his arm to run his hand over Merlin’s light summer sleep-tunic.

“I can’t. Watch this,” Merlin urged.

Arthur propped himself up on one elbow and watched as a circle of water, as large as a shield, floated through the air above their bed.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, straining his eyes to get a glimpse of the magic book that Merlin was still cautious about displaying out in the open, even after all these years.

“If you look into it, you can see the future,” Merlin whispered. “At least I think that was what the spell called for.”

“I don’t know if I want to see the future,” mused Arthur, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of Merlin’s neck. “What if something happens that I’d rather not know about?” 

Merlin took Arthur’s hand and kissed it. “I wouldn’t let you see it, if it was horrible. Or I’d find a way to change things, so it wasn’t so bad.”

“If I look at it, will you come back to sleep?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin huffed. “Go ahead and look. It will make you laugh.”

Arthur gave Merlin a cheeky grin, like he did every time Merlin called him by his official honorific.

He gazed into the water that Merlin had magically suspended above them. He felt Merlin smile against his neck.

It was Gwaine. Or, rather an image of Gwaine, that appeared in the water. He was dancing around and singing a song. Arthur hadn’t seen anything so funny in a very long time.

Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and they laughed together with a joy so rich that it shook the castle walls.

The end


End file.
